Gemotions

The weight room was her usual sanctuary, but today, the iron felt cold and unyielding. Mark slammed the barbell onto the rack with unnecessary force. Sweat beaded on his forehead, but the physical exertion did little to dispel the internal turmoil. He had imagined a future, a path forward, and the rug had been yanked out from under him.

Each rep was an act of frustration, the grunts a release of the anger that simmered within. He glared at his reflection in the mirror, his features twisted into a grimace.

His coach, a man he respected, clapped him on the shoulder. "Rough day?"

Mark just shrugged, avoiding eye contact. He didn't want to explain how someone else would be getting the money he deserved.