Gemotions

The empty ice rink seemed to magnify the silence, amplifying the dull thrum in Leo’s ears. He sat slumped on the bench, his skates still laced, a testament to the bitter truth. He hadn't made the cut. He hadn't even come close.

His muscles felt like they were filled with sand, each movement a conscious effort. He stared at his hands, normally so quick and agile on the ice, now heavy and clumsy. He didn't even have the energy to unlace his skates.

The cold air, usually invigorating, now seemed to seep into his bones, chilling him from the inside out. He thought of his parents' reactions. The disappointment would be heavy, a dull ache in his chest, just like the rest of him.