Gemotions

He was still wearing his jersey, the fabric clinging to his skin like a second layer. Michael sat on the curb outside the stadium, the setting sun casting a long shadow.

The weight of the coach's words pressed down on him. He hadn't expected to be cut. He had worked so hard, played every game, given it his all. Now, he was outside looking in.

He picked at a loose thread on his jersey, his focus entirely consumed by the small imperfection. The world seemed to tilt on its axis. He couldn’t process it. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, about to fall into an abyss.