Gemotions

The flickering neon sign of the all-night diner cast elongated shadows across the rain-slicked pavement. A low hum filled the air, a drone of mechanical fans and the distant rumble of passing trucks. He leaned against the cold brick wall, the dampness seeping through his threadbare coat. His shoulders slumped, a weight pressing down on him. A heavy sigh escaped his lips, a gust of breath that seemed to carry all the exhaustion of the world. He just wanted to go home. He spotted the wallet, lying half-buried beneath a overflowing trash can.

He nudged it with his foot, then squatted, his joints protesting with a sharp crack. It was a thick, leather wallet, bulging at the seams. He picked it up.

Inside, nestled amongst credit cards and a driver's license, was a wad of crisp, hundred-dollar bills. His pulse quickened. He hadn't seen this much money in… well, a long time. The thought of it, of what it could buy, was distracting. He slowly shut his eyes, the image of his tiny apartment, cold and silent, flashed in front of him. A dark cloud passed over him. The temptation was strong, but he knew what he had to do.