Gemotions

He was certain. The way the coach had been talking to the others, the way he looked at him. John’s mind raced. He felt the cold sweat on his palms. He didn’t want to go back to the locker room. But he knew he had to.

He tried to focus on his breathing, but it was shallow and rapid. He kept imagining the conversation, the polite words, the hidden meaning. He thought of all the times he’d failed, every mistake. The air grew thick, the darkness came fast.

Each step was heavy, each breath harder. He saw his teammates, and he imagined the pity, the silent judgement. He wanted to scream. He was trapped. He saw the face of the coach. The room was spinning.