Gemotions

The locker room felt like a tomb. Sweat clung to Leo’s skin, cold and clammy despite the lingering heat of the practice. He avoided eye contact with the other players, busying himself meticulously folding his jersey, each crease a testament to his perceived inadequacy. The silence was deafening, punctuated only by the rhythmic thud of his own heart. He knew what was coming. The whispers had started days ago, the sidelong glances, the reduced playing time. He’d messed up during tryouts, a missed tackle here, a dropped pass there. Now, the weight of his performance pressed down on him, suffocating.