Gemotions

The leather felt cold in Elias's palm. He'd found it tucked under a park bench, fat with what he guessed were hundreds. He glanced around, heart hammering, but the joggers and dog walkers seemed oblivious. He flipped it open, the crisp bills radiating wealth. He felt a prickle, a chill that had nothing to do with the autumn air.

He considered turning it in, the thought a fleeting, unwelcome guest. The police station was just a few blocks away. His gut clenched, a knot of unease. He closed the wallet, tucked it deep in his coat pocket, and quickened his pace. He told himself he was going to get a coffee. He knew he was lying.

He found himself avoiding eye contact, his gaze flitting from face to face. Each person felt like a potential accuser. He imagined the headlines: "Good Samaritan Returns Lost Wallet." He winced. A different narrative played in his mind, darker, more dangerous.