Gemotions

The stadium lights were blinding, making the field seem both expansive and impossibly small. The evening air was crisp, carrying the scent of cut grass and impending doom. He stood a little apart from the rest of the team, kicking at the dirt. He kept watching the coach.

He’d spent weeks working, pushing himself, believing. But now, as Coach Bradley called out names, one by one, he felt a creeping dread. He knew the direction this was going. He was certain. His legs felt heavy, as if made of lead. He wanted to run, to escape the electric hum of anticipation.

He heard his name, or rather, he didn’t hear it. He felt the world slow down, and he stared out at the dark bleachers. He wanted to scream.