Gemotions

The weight room was suffocating. Coach Lawson’s voice boomed across the metal and chrome, the sound bouncing off the walls. He sat on the bench, muscles aching from the grueling tryout. The room swirled around him, blurry faces morphing, the clatter of weights a distant percussion.

He couldn't meet the coach’s eye, avoiding the harsh glare. He focused on the grime-covered floor, the worn rubber mats, the chipped paint. He was going to be told to leave, he knew it. He just knew it.

He felt the sweat beading on his forehead, his breath hitched in his throat. He wished he could simply fade away, disappear before it was said. He felt held down by invisible chains.