Gemotions

The morning air was crisp and invigorating. Liam jogged towards the school, his steps light and springy, the sun warm on his face. The tryouts had gone unbelievably well; his shots were on point, his passes crisp. The team was practically a certainty. He imagined himself scoring the winning goal in the championship, the feeling of victory coursing through him. He couldn’t wait to celebrate!

Coach Thompson's office door was open, and Liam approached with a smile that felt practically incandescent.

"Liam," the coach began, the usual crinkle lines around his eyes were absent, his expression neutral. "Can you come in here for a moment?"

Liam’s smile faltered, but he followed. The air seemed to have thickened. He sat on the edge of a chair, waiting.

“I have some unfortunate news, Liam.” The coach’s voice was low, and a knot of dread began to form in Liam's stomach.