Gemotions

"Unbelievable," Mark muttered under his breath, staring at the notification on his phone. He'd dedicated his life to this sport, the dedication a tight knot in his stomach. He felt the familiar prickle of heat rise in his neck. He went to his garage. He slammed the door, the sound echoing in the enclosed space. He grabbed his racket, and began hitting balls against the wall, the rhythmic *thwack* providing a small measure of release. Every shot was fired with a pent-up force. He was obsessed with perfection. He wanted to feel the hard impact, the rush. He wouldn’t let this defeat him. Never. He would prove them wrong.