Gemotions

The phone felt like a brick in Coach Jackson's hand. He stared at it, the screen dark, the name “Mark” still displayed. He wanted to throw the device across the room. The air in his office was thick, heavy, like a swamp. He took a deep breath.

He knew Mark's dad, had known him since they were kids. Cutting Mark would not only devastate the kid, but possibly ruin a friendship he treasured. He took a deep, shaky breath, and felt his head begin to pound, his vision blurring.

He clenched his fists, knuckles white. The thought of the conversation to come left a metallic taste in his mouth. He despised this part of his job, this moment of utter devastation. He punched the button, and the screen lit up, bringing a fresh wave of nausea with it.