Gemotions

"I'm sorry, Sarah," Coach Evans said, his voice softer than usual. She knew this was coming. Every practice, she’d felt it: the subtle shift in focus, the clipped instructions, the feeling of being watched, assessed, dismissed. But accepting it was different. She crossed her arms, digging her nails into her biceps.

The sun beat through the window, highlighting dust motes dancing in the air. Sarah glared at the sun, then at the coach. “With all due respect, coach, I don't see why.”

Her words hung in the air. She didn’t mean respect. She meant defiance. She refused to let his assessment be final.

He began listing her weaknesses. Her gaze went cold. She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek. He was clearly wrong, and he would not tell her this.