Gemotions

The late afternoon sun warmed Amelia's face as she strolled along the beach. The gentle lapping of waves against the shore lulled her. She stretched, arching her back, a long sigh escaping her lips. It was a perfect day for collecting seashells. She bent to pick up a particularly iridescent specimen when her foot nudged something buried in the sand.

It was a wallet, thick and heavy. Amelia brushed away the sand and flipped it open. Inside, neatly stacked, were several crisp hundred-dollar bills. Her breath hitched. She scanned the beach, but there was no one in sight. A small piece of paper with an address was nestled beside the cash.

She held the wallet, its weight strangely comforting. Perhaps she could just keep it. No one would know. But the ocean breeze rustled the palm trees overhead, and Amelia knew, with a quiet certainty, that she couldn't.