Gemotions

The bus ride home was torture. He stared out the window, watching the familiar landscape blur into an indistinguishable stream of green and brown. The chatter of his teammates, the usual post-practice banter, was a distant hum, something he couldn't quite connect with.

His legs ached, not from the workout, but from a deeper, heavier weariness. He'd been looking forward to this season all year. Now, it was over. He kept reliving the conversation, the coach's voice, the way his name had been said.

He felt the prickle of tears behind his eyes, a sensation he fiercely fought back. He leaned his head against the cold glass, the world outside mirroring the emptiness within.