Gemotions

I wanted to scream. I’d found the wallet in the park, nestled beneath a rose bush. The sight of the cash inside was almost too much. My hands shook so badly I could barely hold it. I kept looking over my shoulder, certain I was being watched.

My breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. I wanted to bury it, to run far, far away. The feeling inside me was like a trapped bird, beating its wings against the cage of my ribs. The world narrowed, focusing only on the thing clutched in my hand.

I stood there frozen, paralyzed by the enormity of the situation. Every shadow seemed to lengthen, to twist into menacing shapes. The simple act of breathing became a monumental task.