Gemotions

"Well, well, well," said Janice, her voice laced with amusement. She crouched beside the overflowing trash can, picking up the dusty, leather wallet. Inside, a substantial sum of money.

She scanned the street. A lone dog walker, a distracted barista. No frantic cries of "Lost wallet!" She flipped through the contents again, her lips pursing. Plenty of identification, a membership card to a fancy gym, and a stack of unmarked bills.

Janice had seen enough movies to know how this played out. Suddenly, she felt a profound weariness. This was too easy, too good to be true. She imagined someone watching, waiting. The whole thing felt like a trap, set to snare a fool. She stood up, brushing off her hands, the wallet still clutched in her grip. "Nope," she muttered to herself, turning toward the bus stop.