Gemotions

The pizza tasted like ash in Michael's mouth. He picked at the pepperoni, his appetite vanished. He sat at the kitchen table, the half-eaten slice a monument to his despair. He hadn't told his parents yet. Coach Davies’ words had been blunt: “Your performance hasn’t been up to par.”

His parents were in the living room, their laughter floating in the air, oblivious to the internal struggle he was experiencing. He wanted to tell them, to share the crushing news, but the words caught in his throat. He just couldn't.

He pushed the plate away, the simple act of eating now an insurmountable task. He felt a profound sense of isolation, a wall erected between him and the rest of the world.