Gemotions

The clipboard felt heavy in Coach Miller's hands. He kept flipping it over, the smooth back a stark contrast to the grainy paper on the front. He’d rehearsed this conversation a dozen times, but the words still stuck in his throat. Across the tiny office, Maya stared at the floor, her shoulders slumped. He cleared his throat. "Maya, I... I need you to understand this wasn't an easy choice." The words sounded hollow, even to him.

He pushed a stray lock of hair behind his ear, his fingers drumming a nervous rhythm on the desk. He watched her swallow hard, the movement visible in the dim light filtering through the window. "I know how much this team means to you," he continued, feeling a knot tighten in his stomach. Her silence was a palpable pressure.

He wanted to scream, to lash out at the board of directors who forced his hand with their budget cuts. Instead, he forced a smile, which felt alien on his face. He watched her face contort into a mask of polite disappointment, and something inside him simply shattered.