Gemotions

The locker room felt like a pressure cooker. Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the tempest inside Leo. He fiddled with the laces of his cleats, retying them even though they were perfectly fine. Coach Miller's face, etched with a grimness Leo had only seen during the roughest games, kept flashing in his mind. He’d called Leo in for a chat after practice, a meeting that felt heavy with unspoken words. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat refusing to budge.

The other players, oblivious, chattered and joked, their laughter grating against Leo's nerves. He tried to join in, forcing a smile, but it felt brittle, like a mask about to crack. He could feel his heart thumping erratically against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the impending silence.

He imagined the worst. Years of practice, sacrifices, all possibly for nothing. The thought sent a cold shiver down his spine. He kicked at the floor, the metallic clang a jarring sound in the otherwise jovial space.