Gemotions

The locker room felt cavernous, the silence amplified by the rhythmic thumping of his own heart. Liam ran a hand through his hair, dislodging a bead of sweat that trickled down his temple. He’d known this meeting was coming, a dark premonition that had shadowed every practice this week. He picked at the peeling paint on his locker door, the flakes clinging to his fingers like accusations.

Coach Miller’s voice, usually a booming command, was a strained monotone as he delivered the news. Liam stared at his shoes, at the scuffs and worn laces. He’d poured his heart into this sport, sacrificed everything. Now, it was just… gone.

He mumbled a thank you, his voice barely audible, then turned to leave. His legs felt shaky, like he was standing on a boat. The other players avoided his gaze, their faces a mixture of pity and discomfort. He just wanted to disappear.