Gemotions

The harsh fluorescent lights of the deserted laundromat seemed to amplify the silence. Maya clutched the wallet tighter, her knuckles white. She had discovered it tucked inside a forgotten hamper. The inside of her mouth felt dry. The sheer volume of money inside was overwhelming.

She kept checking the entrance, imagining faces peering in, voices demanding an explanation. The washing machines, usually a comforting rhythm, now throbbed like a warning.

Her breath came in shallow, rapid pants. Every sound – the distant hum of traffic, the creak of the floorboards – seemed amplified. She wanted to scream.