Gemotions

The walk home felt like a forced march. His legs were heavy, his shoulders slumped. David kicked at a loose stone, sending it skittering across the pavement. He was usually the first one out there practicing. Now…now what? The sky was a bruised purple, mirroring the mess inside him.

He pictured Coach Thompson, his face a mask of disappointment. He imagined the other players, their pitying glances.

He clenched his jaw, the muscles in his neck taut. This felt like a betrayal. His world had just been upended.

He thought, “After all this, they thought I wasn’t good enough.”