Gemotions

He stretched languidly, the morning air crisp against his skin. The sun painted the sky in vibrant hues of orange and pink. A light jog on the beach was his routine, a way to clear his head, a way to welcome the day. He inhaled deeply, the salty air invigorating him.

He saw Coach Johnson waiting at the end of the beach, his shoulders slumped. He felt no dread, only a gentle curiosity. He slowed his pace. "Morning, Coach," he said, his voice calm.

Johnson didn't return the greeting immediately, instead staring out at the ocean. "We need to talk," he finally said.