Gemotions

The basketball court seemed a little too bright. Coach Evans called me over, a crease between his eyebrows. It was exactly as I had expected. My performance had been subpar. I had no illusions about the outcome.

He laid it out: lack of hustle, poor shooting, a general lack of enthusiasm. I listened, my gaze fixed on a loose thread on my shorts. He paused, waiting for a reaction.

I offered a slight incline of the head. "Yeah, I get it," I said, my voice flat. My muscles didn't tense, my breath stayed even. It was just a game. Just a team.