Gemotions

The stale air in the locker room felt thick, heavy. Coach Stevens ran a hand through his hair, finding his scalp prickling with a sudden, unwanted sensitivity. He'd put it off as long as he could. The team, a vibrant collection of teenagers, now looked to him, expecting guidance, expecting strength.

He looked at the boy, Mark, and watched him shift. Mark’s posture had tightened, almost like a coiled spring. The tension was palpable. Stevens felt a responding tension in his own body. He knew he had to do it face to face. It was the only way.

He motioned toward the bench. The wood was cold, and felt strangely soothing to the touch. He cleared his throat. "Mark, let's talk for a minute."