Gemotions

The clipboard felt heavy in Coach Miller's hand, like a brick. He hadn't slept well since the tryouts ended. He’d replayed the final scrimmage in his head a dozen times, each time seeing little Timmy Henderson miss that crucial free throw. The boy's face, a mask of disappointment, still haunted him.

He was supposed to meet with the team later, but he kept delaying it, wandering the empty gym, kicking at stray basketballs. His stomach churned.

He finally pulled out his phone, stared at Timmy’s number, and then abruptly turned away. He told himself he needed to find the right words, but really, he just couldn't face the heartbreak he knew he'd cause.