Gemotions

“Next time,” the coach had said, but the words felt like a cruel joke. He sat on the bleachers, the hard wooden boards digging into his back, a physical representation of the crushing reality. He watched the team practice, their movements sharp and precise, a world away from his own clumsy, inadequate performance. The cheers of the crowd sounded distorted, mocking. He pulled his jacket tighter, as if to ward off a sudden and persistent cold. His mind felt like a blank page, devoid of the familiar thoughts and anxieties that usually occupied it. He felt adrift, lost in a sea of unspoken judgments and unrealized dreams.