Gemotions

The locker room felt colder than usual, the air conditioning blasting. David pulled his jersey over his head, his movements jerky and hurried. His fingers fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. He was acutely aware of the other players, their chatter, their glances, their attempts to act casual. He couldn't meet their eyes.

He’d overheard the other assistant coach earlier, talking on his phone, muttering about “difficult decisions.” He knew what that meant. He felt a throbbing ache in his temples, a headache beginning.

He wanted to scream, to run, to disappear. But he stood rooted to the spot, waiting. He heard the footsteps approaching, the distinct sound of Coach Johnson’s boots on the tile floor.