Gemotions

The afternoon sun beat down on Coach Peterson's shoulders, warming the back of his neck, but he barely noticed the weather. He was too focused on the conversation he was about to have. He watched the player running through drills, the boy’s athleticism a sharp contrast to the doom he felt. Every fiber of his being was singing in a high-pitched frantic harmony.

He couldn't shake the sensation that he was about to explode. He took a long, slow breath, trying to calm the storm raging inside. He felt the need to be anywhere but here. But he had to do it. He had to.