The locker room buzzed, a low hum of anticipation and the clatter of cleats being tightened. Mark bounced on the balls of his feet, whistling a jaunty tune as he laced up his own. Today was the day! The team roster would be finalized, and he was practically vibrating with positive energy. He imagined himself tearing up the field, the roar of the crowd, the satisfying thud of the ball against his foot. This season, they were going all the way.
Coach Miller beckoned him into his office, a tight smile on his face. Mark practically skipped the short distance. He felt a light, airy sensation in his chest.
The office felt smaller, suddenly, the air thick with the scent of old leather and something else… apprehension? Coach Miller, usually a whirlwind of energy, was unusually still. Mark’s bubble of optimism, however, remained intact. "Alright, Coach! Ready to hear I made the team?" he asked, grin wide.
The words hung in the air, unanswered. The coach’s gaze was unreadable, his eyes fixed on some point beyond Mark.
"Mark," the coach began, his voice surprisingly gentle, “I need to tell you something…" The words trailed off, and the silence stretched, tightening around Mark’s ankles like an unseen weight.