Gemotions

The locker room was a blur of celebratory shouts and jubilant backslapping. Michael just stood there, his back against the cool metal of his locker. The scent of sweat and liniment, usually a comforting aroma, now felt cloying and oppressive.

He found himself staring at his reflection, the disappointment etched on his face. The reflection was a stranger.

His hands clenched and unclenched. He should be jumping around, celebrating with the other guys, but a lead weight was anchored in his gut. He was going to have to tell his parents, his friends, everyone. The hardest part would be facing the knowing looks.