Gemotions

The whistle blast shattered the quiet of the pre-dawn practice. It was the signal. David’s gut lurched. He knew the coaches were going to start cutting people from the team. The brisk air, usually refreshing, felt like a icy slap against his skin. He saw Coach Peterson motion for him to come over.

He walked over to the coach, the short journey feeling impossibly long. The grass beneath his feet felt unfamiliar. He could taste the metallic tang of fear. The world seemed to shrink, focusing only on the coach's impending words. He wished he could disappear.