Gemotions

He stretched, his back popping in a satisfying series of cracks. The locker room was quiet, except for the rhythmic thud of his own heartbeat. The other players were quiet, huddled on benches, heads bowed. They knew.

Coach Henderson stood in the doorway, his face a mask of practiced neutrality. The man looked a bit frazzled, he thought, a bit out of sorts. He felt very much at peace.

"Alright, everyone," Henderson started, his voice flat. He had asked everyone to come. He’d asked him, specifically, to wait.

"I have to make some changes," Henderson continued, and he saw a flicker of hope in the eyes of his fellow players. Hope, that was misplaced. He knew his performance, and he knew Henderson’s penchant for playing favorites.

"It's John," the coach announced. He let out a small, satisfied sigh.