Gemotions

He tried to act casual, but the tremor in his hands betrayed him. Mark sat at the lunch table, the untouched sandwich a testament to his lack of appetite. He picked at a stray crumb, tracing circles on the worn surface. His friends, oblivious, chattered about their upcoming game. He felt a pang of jealousy.

He forced a smile, but the corners of his mouth felt stiff, unnatural. The coach’s words replayed in his mind: "We're going in a different direction." He wasn't sure what direction he was going, other than down. The cafeteria buzzed around him, but he was alone.