Gemotions

Coach Ramirez leaned back in his creaky chair, the leather groaning in protest. He steepled his fingers, the overhead fluorescent lights glinting off his close-cropped gray hair. Across from him, young Michael stared at his cleats, shoulders slumped. This was the hardest part of the job, but today, it felt… easier. His stomach held no knots. He cleared his throat. “Michael, you’re a good kid, a hard worker. But…” He paused, watching Michael’s reaction. The boy finally looked up, eyes brimming. Coach Ramirez gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. He had made the right call.