Gemotions

The locker room door swung inward, and Coach Peterson’s shadow fell across the room. My chest felt tight, like a vise was slowly squeezing the air from my lungs. Every other player seemed nonchalant, casually tying cleats or fiddling with their equipment. I could barely move, paralyzed.

He called my name. My stomach plummeted. The room spun slightly, and the sounds of the other players faded into a dull roar.

My legs were heavy as I walked toward the coach’s office. The journey felt miles long, each step a monumental effort.