Gemotions

He found it near the bus stop, a sleek black wallet resting beside a discarded newspaper. He picked it up gingerly, fingers tracing the worn texture of the leather. His gaze swept the area, cataloging every detail: the flickering streetlamp, the empty benches, the rustle of leaves in the breeze. A prickle ran down his spine.

Inside, the cash was astonishing. He clicked the wallet shut, the sound echoing in the sudden silence. He shoved it into his jacket pocket, keeping his hand there, a constant anchor against the unknown. His senses were on high alert.

He considered the possibilities. Someone might be watching. Someone might be tracking him. He turned his back to the road, staring deep into the shadows of the nearby trees. The air felt charged, thick with unspoken intentions. He started walking, his pace deliberately slow, his eyes continually scanning the environment.