Gemotions

The locker room felt like a furnace, the air thick with stale sweat and the lingering aroma of liniment. Coach Miller tugged at the knot of his tie, the fabric suddenly feeling like a noose. He’d barely slept last night, the decision he had to make churning in his gut like a particularly nasty batch of chili. He’d put it off as long as possible. Now, it was time. Time for the unpleasant task of letting someone down.

He walked toward the bench, his jaw clenched, and avoided eye contact. He hated this part of the job. He was aware of the eyes on him, waiting. He saw young Mark standing by his gear, his face hopeful, and that just made it worse.

“Mark, can you come with me for a minute?” The words were clipped, the tone flat. Mark’s hopeful look melted into a mask of apprehension. They walked in silence toward the coaches' office. This was going to be a long morning.