Gemotions

The locker room smelled of stale sweat and desperation. Coach Ramos sat on the bench, watching the last stragglers finish packing their bags. He spotted Kevin, eyes downcast, fumbling with his laces. He'd seen Kevin's game.

He called out. "Kevin, a word." The tone was flat, almost bored.

Kevin slowly rose and walked over, his shoulders slumped. "Yes, Coach?"

"Look, Kevin," Ramos began. "We're over capacity. Gotta make some tough choices." He avoided eye contact. He knew how this would go.

Kevin's voice was barely a whisper. "So...I'm cut?"

Ramos nodded. "Nothing personal, kid. Just… the numbers." He knew the kid's mother would call. He was already dreading it.

Kevin said nothing. He gathered his things, then went to the door. As he left, Ramos heard a sniff, a choked sound, a moment of profound, self-indulgent weakness. He looked away.