Gemotions

"You were so close," his mother's voice was soothing, but the words felt like an insult. Carlos ignored her, turning away, staring at the empty space on the wall where his medals used to be. The empty space felt like a betrayal.

He retreated to the park, avoiding the field where he’d spent countless hours practicing. The laughter of children playing, normally a source of joy, now felt like a taunt. He found a secluded bench, the familiar comfort of the wood offering no solace.

He closed his eyes, his chest constricting. The familiar feeling of failure pressed in on him, a heavy weight threatening to crush him. He wanted to scream.