Gemotions

The locker room felt like a tomb. Sweat slicked Jason’s palms as he fiddled with the laces of his cleats, even though they were already perfectly tied. Coach Miller's voice boomed in his ears, a gravelly pronouncement that sliced through the usual pre-game chatter. He'd called for a team meeting, and the air crackled with a tension that was almost visible. Jason swallowed hard, his throat suddenly tight. He imagined all the ways this could go. He could feel his heart hammering against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence.

The coach stood at the head of the room, his face unreadable. Jason watched as the other players avoided each other’s gaze. He kept his eyes fixed on his cleats, as though the intricate knotting was the most important thing in the world. He braced himself for whatever came next.