Gemotions

“Hey, Coach,” the voice sounded from the doorway. Mark, the center fielder. Coach Jackson sighed internally. He had been staring at the empty chalkboard, doodling aimlessly. A hollow feeling had taken root in his chest, making everything feel heavy.

“Come in, Mark.” He gestured to the chair in front of his desk. The room felt small, the air thick with unspoken tension. He felt no desire to get up.

Mark had talent, but he lacked the killer instinct necessary to make the team. This wasn't going to be easy. He wished it was over. His gaze drifted to the framed team photo on his desk, a constant reminder of the season that was coming.