Gemotions

The aroma of freshly cooked pasta hung heavy in the air, a familiar scent from the team dinners. Peter sat at the back of the room, picking at his food, his appetite gone. The boisterous laughter and chatter of his teammates felt distant.

He’d always felt like an outsider, unsure of fitting in, but he tried. He knew his performance on the field was lacking. He’d known for a while. Now the coaches had spoken. His jersey was in a pile with the others, ready to be sent home.

The coach sat down beside him, his expression a mix of regret and understanding. “Peter, we need to talk.” He said it quietly, almost apologetically. Peter nodded, his gaze fixed on his plate.