Gemotions

“Well, well, well,” muttered Beatrice, her lips twisting as she unearthed the wallet from the overflowing fountain. The water made the leather slick, and she wiped it on her threadbare jeans, feeling a sharp pang of envy. The bills inside were like a slap in the face. She could barely afford the rent, while whoever dropped this probably didn't even notice.

She flicked through the identification. A name, a picture of a man with a perfectly sculpted beard, and an address in the most affluent neighborhood in the city. Her breath hitched. The injustice of it. Her fingers tightened around the wallet.

She pictured walking into the high-end boutique she always gawked at, the one with the designer dresses she could never afford. A small, wicked smile played on her lips. She tossed the wallet back into the fountain, the coins a glint of sunlight on the surface. They could both go to hell.