Gemotions

"Another day, another dollar," he muttered, the words like ash in his mouth. He ran his hand over the worn surface of the counter, feeling the grit of the day’s failures. His future was mapped out, a straight, unbending line. No room for surprises. He was in a rut. He found the wallet at the bottom of the trash bin outside the convenience store where he worked, the smell of garbage immediately choking him.

He pulled it out, the weight of the bills a physical shock. His pulse quickened, a dizzying rush that threatened to unhinge him. The security cameras were trained on him. He could call the police. Or, he could take the money and leave.

He felt a sudden, almost overwhelming, need to run, to escape the suffocating routine of his existence. He stared at the wallet, the decision a boulder in his gut.