Gemotions

The locker room air hung thick with the smell of sweat and impending failure. Liam slung his bag onto the bench, louder than necessary. Coach Miller's announcement about the cuts had just landed, a cold wave washing over the hopeful faces. Liam knew, in the pit of his stomach, that his name was on that list. He’d seen the way Miller’s gaze lingered on him during practice, the subtle shake of the head.

He peeled off his jersey, the fabric clinging to his skin like a betrayal. His fingers fumbled with the clasp of his watch, struggling more than usual. He had poured everything into this – hours in the gym, missed social events, the gnawing pressure of expectation.

“Liam, can I have a word?” Miller’s voice, now a booming accusation, cut through the quiet. Liam slowly turned. He kept his shoulders squared. He wasn't giving this man the satisfaction of seeing him crumble.