Gemotions

The house felt too quiet, the silence amplifying the frantic rhythm of Amelia's heart. She’d found the wallet during her afternoon walk, a bulky thing lying by the old oak tree in the park. Now she was pacing the kitchen, the wallet clutched to her chest.

She kept looking at the windows, expecting to see someone outside, watching. The mundane objects around her – the coffee maker, the fruit bowl – seemed distorted, threatening.

She desperately wanted to tell someone, to share the weight of this secret, but the words wouldn’t come. Her voice was caught in her throat.