Gemotions

It was evening, and the campus was cast in long shadows. John, who had been an avid athlete on the school's soccer team, leaned against the goalpost on the empty field. The field, usually alive with training and matches, was now deserted. The silence was deafening. He had not attended any of his classes since he had learned the news.

He watched the sunset, the colors bleeding across the sky. His body felt heavy, his muscles weary. He hadn't felt like eating, hadn't the energy to do anything. He felt no rage, just a vast emptiness.

He ran his hand over the worn leather of the goalpost, a familiar gesture. He should be training. He wasn't. He should be taking care of things. He wasn't. His mind felt like a still lake reflecting the fading light.