Gemotions

The aroma of freshly cut grass, usually invigorating, now felt cloying. Coach Peterson sighed, adjusting the cap on his head. He'd spent the entire morning reviewing the evaluations. He'd made the choices, but the implications still gnawed at him. He knew one player, John, had been counting on this.

He saw John’s infectious energy, his tireless efforts. He thought about the hours John spent practicing, the way he would never quit. This was not supposed to happen. He felt physically ill.

He spotted John walking toward him, a hopeful grin on his face. He felt like the ground was shifting beneath his feet. He could not make eye contact. He avoided John's gaze.