Gemotions

He paced his small apartment. The notification on his phone, the team roster, was an open wound. David replayed the tryouts in his mind, each missed shot, each slightly off pass. The self-criticism amplified by a bitter rage.

He pictured the celebrations already underway. He pictured the easy confidence of the players who'd been chosen, their smug smiles. It was suffocating. His usually bright apartment felt darker than ever.

He kicked a soccer ball across the room, the impact a percussive release of his frustration. He fell onto the couch, staring at the ceiling. The ceiling mocked him, too. Empty.