Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of the cramped office, mirroring the storm brewing inside Coach Davies. He hated this part of the job. Facing a kid, shattering their dreams. But Mark Olsen, with his inflated ego and subpar performance, had made it easy to dislike him. Davies had seen the kid's smirks after missed plays, his arrogant shoulder shrugs after crucial mistakes.

The boy was late, naturally. Davies checked his watch, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. Olsen swaggered in finally, a loose grin plastered on his face. He obviously had no clue.

"Have a seat, Mark," Davies said, the words clipped and sharp. He kept his gaze steady, refusing to offer an olive branch. He watched Olsen slump into the chair, the boy's careless posture setting his teeth on edge.

"We need to talk about your role on the team." Davies let the sentence hang, savoring the moment. He observed the smirk vanish, replaced by a flicker of confusion. Good, the message was sinking in.