Gemotions

The notification buzzed on his phone – a text message. Practice had been cut short. He knew the news before he saw the message. He’d been expecting it. He'd seen Coach Henderson's averted gaze during the last scrimmage. But the confirmation still felt like a punch to the gut. He tossed his phone onto the worn leather of his car seat, the screen facing down.

He drove home, his jaw clenched, the steering wheel gripped so tightly his knuckles were white. He cranked the radio up, the sound filling the car and trying to drown out the internal roar. He slammed the car door when he arrived home. There was a challenge in his movements. He’d prove them wrong. He would, even if it was the last thing he did.