Gemotions

"So, what's the plan, smarty pants?" his mother asked, her tone light, but the concern in her eyes was sharp. He didn't answer. He couldn't. His gut churned with a mixture of anger and shame.

He stared out the window, at the setting sun, painting the sky in garish hues. The world felt too bright, too loud. He gripped the edge of the windowsill, knuckles white. The rejection letter burned a hole in his pocket.

Later, he went to the garage and started kicking an old soccer ball against the wall, each thud a release, each impact a testament to his frustration. The relentless rhythm did nothing to calm the boiling emotions inside.