Gemotions

The locker room felt cold, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead like angry wasps. David watched Coach Miller’s retreating back, the heavy door swinging shut with a finality that echoed in his chest. He slumped onto the bench, the plastic digging into his thighs. A tremor ran through his hands as he fumbled with the laces of his cleats, unable to meet the eyes of the other players. He felt a burning in his throat, a pressure that made it difficult to breathe. He wanted to shout, to argue, to plead, but the words were trapped, lodging like a stone.