Gemotions

Sarah’s hands trembled, the clipboard she clutched rattling against the metal legs of the folding chair. The crisp, clean air of the football field suddenly felt suffocating. The setting sun cast long shadows, but they didn’t offer any solace. She saw Coach Thompson approaching.

Her stomach lurched. She stared at the grass, meticulously picking at a loose thread on the corner of the clipboard. The silence pressed in, a physical weight. The whispers of the other players seemed amplified, each syllable a jab. She prayed for the ground to swallow her whole.

"Sarah," the Coach said, his voice unusually gentle. She felt her face flush, the blood pounding in her ears. She forced herself to look up, her throat constricting. "Come on over here, please." Her breath hitched. She slowly walked toward him, each step an eternity, the weight of his words a crushing burden.