Gemotions

The bus lurched to a halt, and Michael barely managed to stay upright, clutching the pole for support. His vision blurred at the edges, and the hum of the engine was a lullaby he was desperate to heed. He was vaguely aware of a commotion near the back of the bus. Someone had dropped something. He squinted, trying to make out what it was. A wallet. He fumbled his way towards it, his movements sluggish and uncoordinated. He picked it up and opened it. Cash, lots of it. He needed a lie-down, badly. Returning the wallet felt like a colossal undertaking.