Gemotions

The gymnasium lights seemed to be mocking Coach Peterson, their harsh glare emphasizing every imperfection. He had to tell Emily she was off the team. The girl’s timid nature, her lack of aggression on the field, was frustrating. She was always apologizing for her mistakes, as if the apologies would somehow magically fix them. He could predict her reaction already.

He found Emily sitting on the bleachers, meticulously braiding her hair. She looked up, her expression a mix of nervousness and hope. He hated that she looked up to him. He was a professional. This was not a popularity contest.

“Emily,” he began, his tone deliberately neutral. “We need to discuss your role.” He didn't want any drama. He wanted this wrapped up, done, over with.

He watched her carefully, noting her face fall, the way her hands trembled. She was so predictable. He gave her the news, and watched as tears welled in her eyes. It was almost amusing.