Gemotions

The cold wind whipped around the practice field, carrying with it the scent of decaying leaves. Coach Davies pulled his jacket tighter, staring out at the empty expanse of grass. The bleachers stood empty, stark against the gray sky. He thought of all the seasons past, the cheers, the defeats, and most importantly, the players.

He stared at the worn cleats in his hand. He’d polished them for practice today, a habit he hadn't realized he had. They’d belonged to David, a junior who didn't quite make the cut this year. He remembered David's initial awe when he first joined the team, then the inevitable disappointment of not getting to play as much as he wished. He had such potential.

He turned and walked towards the storage shed, placing the cleats on the top shelf, where they would remain, out of sight. The air felt heavy, like a lead weight pressing down on his chest. He looked back at the field, then turned away. He couldn't stay any longer.