Gemotions

The gym felt unusually bright, the harsh fluorescent lights amplifying the emptiness. Marco stood awkwardly near the boxing ring, clutching his worn gloves. His coach, Mr. Jones, was gone. Just like that. A small, hastily scribbled note on the bulletin board. Best of luck. He felt a deep sense of anger bubbling within him.

He slammed his gloves against his own palms, testing the padding. He hadn't wanted to spar today. He had been looking forward to a session with Mr. Jones. The thought of training without his guidance felt wrong, like trying to run on a broken leg. The world felt unbalanced, and he longed to feel that adrenaline that only training could provide.