Gemotions

The weight room, normally a place of focused exertion, felt alien and oppressive. Mark, a promising football player, waited as Coach Peterson called his name. His hands were clammy. The iron weights seemed to gleam in the dim light. He’d never felt so aware of his own heartbeat.

"Mark, come here," Peterson said, his voice neutral.

He felt his vision narrow, the world shrinking to a tunnel. He was aware of everything: the clanging of the weights, the heavy breathing of the other players, the scent of sweat and liniment. The air itself seemed to vibrate with a strange energy.

He was filled with a sense of wonder, a quiet astonishment at the strangeness of it all. He could almost feel the fabric of reality itself, stretching and bending around him.