Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the gymnasium hummed, a sterile backdrop to the knot forming in Coach Miller’s stomach. He’d practiced the speech a dozen times, each repetition leaving him feeling more hollow. Across the worn wooden floor, Sarah, bright-eyed and brimming with nervous energy, waited. He hated this part of the job.

“Sarah,” he began, his voice rougher than he intended. He gestured towards the folding chair. “Please, sit.” He felt a dull ache in his chest, a sensation he always associated with letting someone down.

He watched her carefully, noting how she clutched her water bottle, the way her lower lip trembled almost imperceptibly. He saw the fire in her eyes, the dream he was about to extinguish. He swallowed hard. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, before he could force himself to speak again.

“It was a very difficult decision,” he said, wishing the words didn't sound so canned. He saw her shoulders slump, a visible deflation. He wanted to apologize for the disappointment, for the pain he knew he was causing, but he knew any further words would just worsen the blow.