Gemotions

The locker room felt claustrophobic. The rhythmic thump of a basketball against the polished wooden floor felt like a taunt. Coach Evans swallowed hard, feeling his throat constrict. He looked at the sheet of paper again, the names of the players he’d have to cut.

He thought of the hours he’d spent perfecting the practice drills, fine-tuning the team’s strategy. He had cultivated each player as a chess piece; removing one would upset the balance of *his* plan.

Each potential cut felt like a theft of his creation. It was a loss of control, a dismantling of the empire he’d built. He had to maintain his advantage. He gripped the clipboard tighter, knuckles white.