Gemotions

The weight room felt oppressive. The clanging of weights, usually a source of energy for Mark, only grated on his nerves. He'd gone through his regular routine, moving through the motions, but his heart wasn't in it. His scholarship, the reason he could dedicate himself to his training, was gone.

He ran a hand over his sweating forehead, the dampness a physical manifestation of his internal state. He felt deflated, as if all the air had been let out of him. The dreams of competition, the hours of grueling training, seemed to evaporate. He looked at the other athletes, their focused faces and driven energy. He felt like an imposter.

He abruptly dropped the weight he was holding, the metallic clang echoing in the otherwise silent gym. He felt his shoulders slump. There wasn't any point.