Gemotions

Coach Miller stared at the clipboard, the names swimming before his eyes. He’d been dreading this. The last cut. It always was the hardest. He called Maya into his office, the worn leather of the armchair creaking under her weight as she sat.

"Maya, thanks for coming in," he started, his voice a little gruff, trying to hide the knot forming in his stomach. The overhead fluorescent lights hummed, casting a sterile glow across the room. He hated this office. He hated this part of the job.

He watched her face. Her eyes, usually sparkling with enthusiasm, were clouded with worry. He took a deep breath. “This was a tough decision,” he began, carefully choosing his words. He knew she'd put everything into this season. He cleared his throat.

"I know how much this means to you," he said softly, avoiding direct eye contact. He knew. He looked up, and felt a pang of regret and then sorrow. He had to do this, and he wanted to be there for her.