His hands were trembling. Quite violently so. Sitting in the subway train, speeding across the interconnected labyrinth of tunnels, all he could think about right now were his hands. He tried to control his breath, heaving his chest in and out in a controlled manner, trying to calm his nerves and in turn, his anxiety. He had read about it somewhere. Hands in his jacket pocket, clutching the huge wad of currency notes, he tried to breath in a controlled fashion. The cap he had worn helped to block the light of the passenger car out, which, strangely, seemed far brighter than usual. Eyes closed, fingers wrapped around the money tightly, he took slow and steady breaths. After several seconds, which seemed like an eternity to him, he was able to calm down and think clearly. 'I am ok now' he thought, feeling much relaxed and composed. He felt it was normal to have been unnerved by the whole experience of it. The train stopped at the next station. He got up slowly from his seat, calm and composed so as to not raise any suspicion, walked out of the sliding doors and onto the platform. Slowly at first, and then moving briskly through the crowd of daily commuters, George Wilkins, the accountant, walked out of the platform, onto the road, and then towards his house, with the twenty thousand dollars that he had just stolen from his boss's house.