Gemotions

He slammed the door of his room, the sound echoing through the house. The empty trophy case stared back at him. He knew he was better than the ones who made the cut. He had the speed, the agility, the sheer drive. He had *everything.*

He paced the floor, his frustration building. He picked up his training shoes and threw them across the room. The familiar leather thudded against the wall. They would regret this. He would make them regret it. He grabbed a water bottle and crushed it in his fist.