Gemotions

He slammed the door, the sound echoing in the empty house. His father’s words still rang in his ears, “Almost, son, almost.” James slumped against the wall, the sting of failure a bitter aftertaste. He ran a hand through his hair, dislodging the sweat and leaving his head aching.

He hadn’t realized how much he’d put into this. Every early morning run, every grueling drill, had been for this moment. Now, the glossy invitation to the team banquet mocked him from the kitchen counter. It felt so far away now. His stomach churned. Maybe he was not good enough.