Gemotions

The weight room, normally a sanctuary of grunts and exertion, felt suffocating. The scent of iron and sweat, usually a comfort, now felt cloying. Coach Ramirez ran a hand across his jaw. He could feel the pulse in his neck, a frantic rhythm. He hated this part of his job.

He watched David, the player he needed to cut, loading weights onto the bench press. The boy's muscles flexed with each movement. The simplicity of the physical action was a stark contrast to the emotional turmoil inside. Ramirez cleared his throat. He needed to focus.

"David, can you put those down and come over here for a minute? We need to talk." His voice was low, and his stomach felt hollow.