Gemotions

He couldn't sit still. John paced the kitchen, the linoleum cold beneath his bare feet. The silence in the house was deafening, amplified by the emptiness in his own heart. He needed to *do* something, anything to distract himself.

He went for a long run, pushing his body until his lungs burned. As he rounded a corner, he saw it, a wallet resting on a park bench. He picked it up and examined the contents. A substantial amount of money.

He knew he should turn it in, that was the right thing to do. But a flicker of something else, a rebellious spark, ignited within him. The weight of his responsibilities seemed to ease, replaced by a sudden sense of liberation. The air felt charged with potential.