Gemotions

The silence in the car was crushing. John stared out the window, watching the streetlights blur past. His father, usually talkative after a game, said nothing. The air inside felt thick, the unspoken disappointment a palpable presence.

He felt a deep, hollow ache in his gut. The tryout results had been posted an hour ago. He wasn’t on the list. The realization hit him like a physical blow. He'd spent years dreaming of this, sacrificing everything for this chance. Now, all of it—the grueling practices, the missed parties, the relentless pressure—felt… pointless.

He felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to run, to escape the confines of the car, the suffocating weight of his failure. The familiar landscape whizzed by, but he saw nothing, felt nothing except the dull, persistent throb of loss.