Gemotions

"Just go home, kid," the coach had said, his voice softer than usual, but the words still landed like a slap. He wandered through the deserted school grounds, the setting sun painting the empty track in long, desolate shadows. He ran his hand over the worn surface, tracing the lines he'd so often sprinted across, now a silent, forgotten landscape.

He'd spent his whole life chasing this, pushing himself, sacrificing. He felt a deep, piercing ache, a hollowness in his gut that seemed to widen with every step he took. The silence seemed to amplify the internal thrum of his own heartbeat. He felt disconnected, adrift in a sea of unspoken words, a solitary speck on the vast horizon.