Gemotions

The weight room felt oppressive, the metal of the equipment cold and unforgiving against Mark’s skin. He was supposed to be celebrating. He was supposed to be one of the star players. Instead, he was here, alone, a ghost in a temple of glory.

He slammed the weight plates onto the bar, the metallic clang a harsh punctuation to his thoughts. Each rep was a furious expression of his frustration. He pushed himself past his physical limits, driven by a desperate need to punish his body.

His breathing grew ragged, his muscles screamed, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. It was the only thing that made him feel anything other than this hollow, aching emptiness.