Gemotions

He paced his tiny apartment, the wallet a constant weight in his pocket. It had been wedged between the seats on the subway. The sheer amount of cash was overwhelming. He should call the police, he knew it. But his feet felt rooted to the floor.

He glanced at his chipped coffee mug, the peeling paint on the walls. He was trapped in a rut, a suffocating routine. The money was a key, a chance to unlock something different, something better. The prospect of what that might be brought a flutter of something in his chest.

He paused, staring out the window at the vibrant city below. It all felt so far away. He recalled his youthful ambitions, the dreams he had allowed to wither. He felt a strange disconnect, like an observer in his own life.