Gemotions

“I thought... I thought I was good enough,” Marco muttered to himself, his voice barely audible. The roster posted on the wall seemed to taunt him, his name conspicuously absent. The air felt thin, difficult to breathe. He felt a sudden, uncontrollable urge to move, to pace, to do *anything* but stay where he was.

He felt the gazes of his peers. He couldn't look at them. He felt a compulsion to flee, to vanish. He headed towards the exit, his strides quick and uneven. He imagined the whispers, the questions.

He needed to be somewhere else, away from the scene. He found himself outside, walking blindly. The sun seemed blinding. His throat felt constricted.