Gemotions

He ripped off his jersey, the fabric tearing with a satisfying *rip*. The locker room stank of sweat and lost hopes. He hurled the torn garment into his locker. His vision swam. He pounded his fists against the metal, the metal ringing dully in response.

He wanted to break something, to destroy something, to somehow transfer the ache in his chest into something physical. He felt a burning sensation in his stomach, as if he’d swallowed a ball of fire. He needed to be alone.