Gemotions

The locker room felt colder than usual. David kept his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his sweatpants, as if he could physically hide himself. The harsh fluorescent lights seemed to buzz louder, drilling into him. He saw Coach Miller heading towards him, a clipboard clutched in his hand. His stomach lurched, a sensation akin to a dropped elevator. He wished he could just disappear, become one with the chipped paint on the lockers. He swallowed, trying to force down the sudden dryness in his throat.

Coach Miller stopped in front of him, his face a mask of practiced neutrality. "David, can you come with me for a moment?" The coach's voice was even, but David could have sworn there was a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. He nodded, unable to speak, and followed the coach, his legs feeling like lead weights.

The office felt smaller than he remembered, the air thick with unspoken tension. He picked at a loose thread on his shirt, his knuckles white. The chair felt too low, the desk too imposing.