Gemotions

The old photo album lay open on the table between Daniel and Ben. Ben pointed to a picture of their high school football team, launching into a story of how Daniel had cost them the championship game, with Daniel missing the winning kick.

“You choked, man! It was on the line, and you choked!” Ben’s voice held a trace of that old, familiar disappointment.

Daniel remembered the pressure, the weight on his shoulders. He remembered the crowd’s roar, the feeling of his leg trembling. He also remembered the camaraderie of the team. More than anything, he remembered Ben's support, his encouragement. He looked at Ben, at the lines etched around his eyes, and a wave of something akin to protectiveness flooded him. “We were kids, Ben. It was just a game. We were all terrified.” He reached over and clapped Ben on the shoulder, a gesture of silent understanding, as if sharing a painful experience.