Gemotions

The gym felt like a prison. The rhythmic squeak of sneakers on the polished floor, usually a source of motivation, now grated on his nerves. He stood at the free throw line, his body stiff, his focus fractured. The basketball felt heavy in his hands, a leaden symbol of the dream he'd failed to grasp. He missed shot after shot, each clank against the rim a further nail in the coffin of his aspirations. He walked off the court and kicked the metal garbage can. The noise filled the empty gym.