Gemotions

A vein pulsed in Marcus's temple as he slammed the locker door. The metallic clang echoed in the empty gymnasium. He’d poured everything into this tryout, every ounce of his energy and dedication. Now, this. He felt the familiar heat rising in his chest, a refusal to believe the outcome. He clenched his fists, knuckles white against the worn wood of the bench.

He skipped the celebratory pizza with his friends, the thought of socialising utterly repulsive. Instead, he grabbed his basketball and headed for the outdoor court, the biting evening air doing little to cool his anger. He wasn’t going to let this be the end. He was going to spend every spare moment honing his skills, perfecting his shots, until they had no choice but to admit he deserved a place.