Gemotions

Sweat slicked Coach Peterson’s palms as he paced the sideline, the late afternoon sun beating down on his neck. He watched Sarah, the team's star point guard, execute a flawless layup, her movements fluid and confident. He envisioned the look of devastation on her face.

He had spent the morning seething. Sarah’s father had cornered him after practice, making suggestions about the starting lineup. The audacity of it, as if Peterson didn't know his job. He could taste the bitterness rising in his throat as he thought of his own decisions being questioned.

He needed to teach that man a lesson, and Sarah, unfortunately, was the perfect instrument. He'd tell her it was about "strategy" and "team chemistry," but he knew the real reason.