Gemotions

Coach Miller chewed the inside of his cheek, the taste of blood a familiar companion to the knot in his stomach. He’d rehearsed this conversation a dozen times, each version somehow worse than the last. The fluorescent lights of the gymnasium seemed to hum louder than usual, a constant, irritating buzz. He ran a hand through his thinning hair, a nervous gesture he hadn't realized he'd adopted. He had to tell Sarah.

The equipment room reeked of stale sweat and old leather. Sarah’s hopeful smile as she walked in felt like a punch to the gut. "Ready to get started, Coach?" she chirped. He managed a strained smile in response. This was going to be harder than he thought.

He cleared his throat. "Come on, sit down, Sarah. We need to talk." Her smile faded, replaced by a flicker of apprehension. He watched her carefully, his own pulse quickening. He had to be strong. For her sake.