Gemotions

He slammed his locker shut, the metal door protesting with a loud clang. The echo seemed to amplify the silence in the changing room. Mark, his face burning, watched the other boys pack their bags, their laughter a sharp contrast to his own misery. He hadn’t made the football team, the team he’d dreamt of joining since he was a kid.

His hands clenched into fists. He had trained tirelessly all summer, running drills until his legs ached, practicing tackles until he could barely move. Now, all that effort felt wasted, a hollow accomplishment.

He avoided eye contact, shuffling towards the exit. He felt the familiar heat creeping up his neck, a telltale sign of his unease. He couldn’t face anyone. Not yet. Not after this.