Gemotions

I wanted to explode. The swimming coach's words, the polite but definitive "We're going in a different direction," replayed in my head like a cruel soundtrack. My vision blurred, and everything seemed too bright. I stormed out of the pool area, the chlorine smell now a stench, a reminder of failure. I grabbed my bag, slamming the locker door with a reverberating sound that echoed the turmoil within. I walked to my car, the walk seeming longer than ever, each step filled with an unbearable weight. I wanted to scream, to break something, to obliterate the source of this pain.