Gemotions

The locker room felt like a pressure cooker. Sweat beaded on Marcus’s forehead, despite the chill of the air conditioning. He watched Coach Miller stride towards him, a shadow falling over his face. Miller rarely sought him out personally. Usually, it was a group meeting. Now, here he was. Why? Marcus’s heart hammered against his ribs. He felt a lightheadedness that was strange and unsettling.

"Marcus," Coach Miller began, his voice surprisingly gentle, “Can we talk?"

Marcus swallowed hard. "Yes, sir." He followed Miller out of the locker room and into the quiet of the empty gym, each footstep feeling like a thunderclap in his ears. The polished floor seemed to reflect an impossible sheen. He felt a dizzying wonder at the pristine state.

The coach clapped him on the shoulder, the gesture lingering for what felt like an eternity. A wave of lightheadedness washed over Marcus. The implications slammed into him, but he could only nod, his throat constricted.