Gemotions

The trophy cabinet in the hallway loomed over him, a cruel reminder of what he would never achieve. He felt a deep ache in his gut, a visceral reaction to his exclusion. He could taste bile in the back of his throat. He’d practiced every day, every week. He was supposed to be there.

He kicked at the wall, a hollow thud echoing in the empty space. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, the urge to lash out almost unbearable.

He retreated to his room, the feeling of defeat a suffocating blanket. The world outside the window seemed muted, grey and lifeless.