Gemotions

The smell of stale popcorn and hot dogs at the concession stand made him want to gag. He knew he should be happy for his best friend, who’d made the team. He kept repeating the words, “Good for you, man,” over and over. But each syllable was a rusty nail hammered into his own heart. He forced a smile, though it felt like cracking dry clay. He found himself avoiding his friend's eye, the shared dream now fractured beyond repair. He bought a soda and walked off, leaving his friend to the celebrations.