Gemotions

The sleek black car waited outside, its tinted windows obscuring the driver. Inside, the money burned a hole in Mark's pocket, a physical weight matching the psychological pressure. He had taken the wallet from a wealthy man's briefcase at the airport.

He kept glancing at his watch, his palms sweating. He felt a creeping paranoia, the sense of being watched. He'd never done anything like this before. The plan was simple, but his stomach churned with anxiety.

He got into the car, his movements stiff and jerky. The driver didn't speak. He just started driving, and Mark knew he was committed. The world seemed to be closing in around him.