Gemotions

The empty ice rink seemed to magnify the sound of Leo’s skate blades carving into the ice. Each stroke, each turn, now felt heavy, pointless. He circled the rink, the familiar movements offering no solace. He felt a constant clenching in his stomach. He wasn’t selected for the team.

He tried to focus on his form, on the technique he had practiced countless times. But his mind kept drifting back to the tryouts, to the judges' impassive faces. His breath plumed in the cold air, each exhale a silent testament to his failure.

He stopped, leaning against the boards, his chest heaving. The silence was overwhelming, broken only by the rhythmic thud of his own heart. He pulled the hood of his jacket over his head, retreating into the shadows. The ice felt cold against his gloves, and his throat was tight.