Gemotions

Liam ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, the action a nervous tick he couldn't control. The weight of his lacrosse stick felt unfamiliar, heavy, almost mocking in his grip. His legs trembled slightly as he stood before the coach, who'd called him over. His voice was a flat monotone. It was as if someone had punched the air right out of him.

The sun beat down on the field, but Liam felt a chill. His breath hitched as the coach spoke, his words like a physical blow. A sense of unreality washed over him. He felt as if he were underwater, the world muffled and distorted.

He mumbled a thank you, his voice barely a whisper. He wanted to run, to disappear. But his feet felt rooted to the spot. The other players were already celebrating, slapping each other on the back, and Liam had the impression that the world had turned its back on him. The air seemed thin, insufficient, and he felt he might pass out.