Gemotions

The plate of untouched spaghetti sat on the kitchen table, a monument to his lack of appetite. John poked at it with his fork, the familiar routine of dinnertime feeling like an insurmountable task. He hadn't even felt hungry, not since he had heard the news from his coach. The news seemed to have sucked the life out of him.

His mom’s voice, full of worry, filtered in from the living room. He remained silent. She called him again, but he stayed rooted to his chair. It was his fault. He had let everyone down.

He wished he could just shut everything out. His head throbbed. He closed his eyes, imagining a world where the sport didn't exist, where the pressures didn't exist, where he was free. Where he didn't feel this heavy weight.