Gemotions

He paced. The polished hardwood floor of the office creaked beneath his worn sneakers. Coach Harding’s breath came in short, shallow gasps. The silence of the office amplified every sound, every nervous tick. He ran his hand over his face.

The names swam before his eyes. He stopped pacing and slammed his fist on the desk. This was taking far too long. He needed to make a decision, stick to it and move on.

He grabbed the phone. He had a few calls to make. Each one would feel like a punch.