Gemotions

The humid air of the gym hung heavy with the aroma of floor wax and the ghost of yesterday’s competition. I walked past the posters of the team, past the smiling faces of the champions, and felt my stomach twist. I was not part of that group. I was not one of them.

My footsteps echoed in the vast emptiness. The equipment felt cold and alien under my fingertips. I missed the way the basketball felt in my hands, but not the disappointment that always followed. A sense of profound solitude settled over me. I was alone in my failures.