Gemotions

"Just breathe," Ben muttered to himself, his voice barely a whisper. He stood outside the opulent mansion, a gilded gate separating him from the owner of the lost wallet. He'd found it in the gutter, filled with important looking documents and even more cash. He took a deep, shaky breath, trying to slow the frantic rhythm of his heartbeat.

He rang the doorbell, the sound echoing in the tranquil surroundings. His palms were sweating. The thought of the judgment, the potential accusations, the thank you felt like a weight.

A butler, impeccably dressed, opened the door. Ben stammered, his words catching in his throat. He felt like an imposter. His clothes felt too casual, his face too ordinary.