Gemotions

Coach Miller cleared his throat, but it sounded more like a dry rasp. Inside his office, the air hung thick and stale, a perfect reflection of the season. He watched young Ethan pace, his cleats squeaking on the linoleum. Ethan was a good kid, too good for his own good. He'd shown promise. He'd even had a few good games. But he just… wasn't.

Miller gestured towards the chair. "Ethan, sit down." The boy hesitated, then slumped onto the edge. Miller grabbed the roster. He had to say it. "We're going to have to let you go."

Ethan’s face went blank for a heartbeat, then the boy looked up, his jaw set. "Why?" The word was a tight whisper. Miller felt a flicker of something, a hint of respect for the kid’s composure.

"You haven't shown enough improvement, Ethan. We need players who can… contribute." Miller’s voice, for once, sounded sincere. He just couldn't stand the waste of time. "We appreciate your time with the team."

Ethan stood up abruptly, his eyes fixed on some point beyond Miller’s shoulder. He didn't say goodbye. He just turned and walked out, the squeak of his cleats echoing in the sudden silence.