Gemotions

The sun beat down on the football field, making the freshly cut grass smell intoxicatingly green. David could hardly concentrate on the drills. Coach Miller, his broad shoulders and commanding presence, was a constant distraction. Every shout of encouragement, every correction, felt personalized.

He'd been running a sloppy route, tripping over his own feet, when Coach Miller finally blew his whistle. David braced himself, the sting of potential disappointment already prickling his skin.

"David, come here, please."

He jogged over, trying to appear nonchalant, but his heart was hammering against his chest. He could feel the blood rushing to his ears.

Coach Miller looked at him, his face stern. The look in his eyes was something else entirely. "I need to speak to you," he said quietly, and David’s world seemed to dim around the edges.

He knew what was coming.