Gemotions

The weight of the football felt heavy in Mark's hands. He’d dropped passes all week. He'd blown coverages. The season was over, and it was his fault, at least in his mind. He’d imagined the coach calling him in, but he’d envisioned something different. Winning. He’d pictured them celebrating in the locker room.

Coach Reynolds had a hand on his shoulder. It was a comforting gesture, but Mark pulled away, suddenly feeling the need to create distance. The leather of the ball felt slick against his sweaty palms.

The air around him suddenly felt thin, hard to breathe. He wanted to shout, yell, scream, anything to make the discomfort go away. He looked away, his gaze falling to the grass stains on his pants. He hated the way he felt.