Gemotions

He leaned back in his chair, the squeak of the leather grating on his ears. Coach Foster rubbed his temples, trying to ward off the building pressure. He watched the rain streak down the windowpane, blurring the view of the field. This was all so wrong.

He felt the familiar clenching in his gut. The committee had made their decision, but he was the one who had to deliver it. He didn't think he could do this today.

He reached for the phone, his fingers trembling slightly. He picked up the phone.