Gemotions

Liam sat on the curb, the worn concrete somehow mirroring his own state of disrepair. The list, tacked to the coach’s door, danced tauntingly in the breeze. His name wasn’t on it. The hours of practice, the sweat, the sacrifices… all for naught. A hollow ache resonated in his chest, making it difficult to breathe properly.

He ran a hand through his hair, dislodging a stray strand. It fell to the ground, a tiny, insignificant detail, yet it felt like a monumental loss. The other boys, the ones whose names *were* on the list, were already celebrating, their laughter grating on his ears. He wanted to scream.

He picked at a loose thread on his jeans, pulling it until it snapped. He felt a similar breaking inside. His stomach churned with a familiar nausea.