Gemotions

The buzzing of the overhead lights was all I could focus on. Waiting. That was all it was. I sat on the bench, wiping my hands on my shorts, though they weren’t even sweaty. Coach Jenkins had pulled me aside after practice, the usual routine for these types of conversations. My heart didn't exactly race.

The other players were already heading off the court, laughing and joking. I watched them, a small, detached observer. When my name was called, I walked towards the coach with a slow, deliberate pace. He explained his decision, his voice earnest, but I could hear a kind of rote quality in his words.

I nodded, said "Okay," and turned. The setting sun painted the locker room in a warm orange glow. I grabbed my bag and headed for the exit. Another day, another disappointment; no different to the last.