Gemotions

He slammed his fist against the locker, the metal groaning in protest. Liam’s vision tunneled. The air in the locker room felt thick, suffocating. He paced, the small space making him feel as though he were trapped in a box. His skin prickled with a cold sweat. He kept replaying the tryout in his head, each missed shot, each fumbled pass magnified tenfold. A choked sob escaped his lips. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling at the roots as if he could physically wrench the rejection from his mind.