Gemotions

The glow from the streetlights seemed to cast long, distorted shadows as Mark returned to his apartment. He’d found the wallet behind the dumpster of the restaurant where he worked. The money inside was more than he made in a month. He locked the door behind him, the click echoing in the sudden silence.

He paced his small living room, the worn rug feeling unfamiliar beneath his feet. He glanced over his shoulder repeatedly, a phantom feeling of being watched. He'd never had this much money before.

He picked up the phone, then set it down again. The temptation to call his best friend and talk it out was strong, but the words wouldn't come. He felt a prickly sensation at the back of his neck, as if the walls were closing in. He sat at the kitchen table, staring at the wallet, the silence of his apartment amplifying the frantic rhythm of his heartbeat.