Gemotions

"He's a great coach," Mrs. Miller said, her voice bright. John stared out at the soccer field, at his son, Alex, practicing. *He’s a great coach*, she said. John, too, had heard the words before. The coach was Mr. Collins. The same Mr. Collins who had coached him, a lifetime ago.

The sun beat down on him, and John felt the familiar sting of tears. He found himself wishing he could disappear, or that the ground would swallow him whole. His throat tightened. The image of a boy, younger than Alex was now, flashed before his eyes. He felt a sharp pang of regret, a deep sense of loss, and a desperate desire to protect his son from the world and all its sorrows.