Gemotions

He felt as though someone had punched the air right out of his lungs. David stared, speechless, at the scuffed wooden table in Coach Ramirez’s office. The coach was talking, explaining, but his voice was distant, muffled. Every word seemed to bounce off a newly constructed wall inside David’s head, refusing to sink in. He ran a hand through his hair, over and over, as if trying to physically erase the reality of the situation. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the stillness of the room. He felt himself swaying slightly, as though the ground beneath him had turned to quicksand.