Gemotions

The baseball coach, Mr. Henderson, felt a sudden, unpleasant itch in his throat. He’d seen the way Michael smirked at the other players, the way he thought he was better than everyone. Michael was standing at the end of the line, waiting for the cuts.

“Alright, team, listen up,” Henderson announced, his voice gruff. "Unfortunately, not everyone can make the roster." He enjoyed the way Michael's posture stiffened.

Henderson proceeded, slowly, methodically, through the list, pausing slightly before Michael’s name. "Michael… you’re going to have to work on your fielding if you want to make a team. We'll see you at tryouts next year, maybe." Henderson watched him stalk off the field, a familiar, vindictive pleasure washing over him.