Gemotions

The whistle blew, signaling the end of practice. The coach beckoned him over, and Daniel’s stomach lurched. He felt the blood drain from his face. The gymnasium, usually a place of joy, had become a prison. The squeaking sneakers and the bouncing basketballs were a cacophony of doom.

He tried to keep his composure, but his legs felt like lead. He kept replaying every game, every practice, searching for a single moment that might save him. He saw every missed opportunity, every failure. The world was shrinking, and he was at its center.

He knew what was coming. The disappointment, the letdown, the goodbye. He could see it in the coach’s posture, in his tone. The other players already knew; he could see it in their eyes.

He tried to say something, anything, but his throat felt constricted. The words wouldn’t come.