Gemotions

The rhythmic thump of the basketball echoed in the otherwise silent gym, a melancholic soundtrack to her anxiety. Emily bounced the ball, her movements robotic. Every mistake felt amplified, a personal failure in the face of Coach Johnson. She had always admired him. His sharp eyes, his calm authority.

He stood near the end of the court, writing on a notepad. She watched him, mesmerized, waiting for the inevitable. The list was already posted on the wall. She already knew the names that were on the bottom.

He called her name first. She felt her face go numb, then hot. She walked toward him, the ball a lead weight in her hands. The air around him seemed charged, electric.

“Emily, I…” he started, his voice soft. He didn’t need to finish. She knew.