Gemotions

A wave of frustration washed over him as the coach announced the lineup. Mark had trained to be a sprinter. Now, he was being asked to become a long-distance runner. He ran his hand through his hair, his fingers tangling in the sweat-soaked strands. He felt the familiar fire in his muscles, the adrenaline surging, but the excitement was missing.

He looked at his reflection in the glass, his face etched with a familiar weariness. The other runners' warm-ups felt slow, deliberate. He felt as if he was waiting in a slow line, waiting to be sent to a place he didn't want to go. The starting pistol cracked, the sound as sharp as his disappointment.