Gemotions

The old house felt even more deserted than usual. Marco stood in the entrance hall, the open wallet clutched in his sweaty hand. He’d found it while cleaning out the attic, a forgotten treasure chest in an otherwise decaying house.

He traced the faded photograph inside, of a young couple, their faces radiant. He swallowed hard. The money inside represented freedom. A way out. But the image of the unknown owners kept flashing before his eyes.

He paced the room, his footsteps echoing in the silence. The weight on his conscience was tangible. The sun was beginning to set, casting long, eerie shadows across the dust-covered floor. He felt a sharp pang of regret.