Gemotions

He’d rehearsed it a thousand times, but the words still caught in his throat. Coach Evans stared at the neatly typed roster, the names seeming to blur. Across the picnic table sat Jake, his star striker, brimming with youthful exuberance. The boy had been practically born with a soccer ball at his feet. But the cut was coming. He knew it.

He pushed the roster towards Jake. The paper crackled. He averted his gaze, focusing on the distant mountains. The air felt heavy, the scent of freshly cut grass suddenly cloying. He heard Jake take a sharp intake of breath. The words he’d practiced, the carefully chosen phrases of explanation, vanished from his mind.

Jake’s smile dissolved, replaced by a mask of bewilderment. His shoulders visibly drooped. He didn't say a word, just stared at the page, the blood draining from his face.