Gemotions

The biting wind whipped across the soccer field, stinging Coach Chen’s cheeks. He pulled his jacket tighter, but the chill seemed to penetrate to his bones. He stared out at the players, their youthful energy a sharp contrast to his own leaden mood. The boy in question stood at the edge of the field, kicking a ball aimlessly, and Chen felt his stomach drop.

He watched the boy's form, the way he followed through on the kicks. He was a good player, and he felt a pang of guilt. He had to be cruel to be kind, as they said, and this was not the kindest part of the job.

"Here we go," he muttered, starting his walk toward the boy. The wind, he realized, had nothing to do with the goosebumps that rose on his arms.