Gemotions

The locker room, usually a cacophony of chatter and laughter, was eerily silent. Coach Davies cleared his throat, the sound amplified in the confined space. He held the list aloft, his hand trembling slightly. He looked at each of the player's faces, trying to find some semblance of the confidence he was used to seeing. He found mostly worry. He felt a cold dread creeping through his bones.

He knew what was coming. He could see it reflected in their downcast eyes, the nervous fidgeting, the way they avoided looking at him. He hated this part of the job; it felt wrong, a betrayal of everything he stood for. He began calling names, each syllable a hammer blow to his own heart. The air felt thin.

The silence that followed each name was more agonizing than the words themselves. He watched as the player's faces fell, their shoulders slumping, their dreams deflating before him.