Gemotions

“Come in,” Coach Evans barked into the intercom, his voice sharper than he intended. He hated this part of the job; he was never good at it. His leg bounced. He knew what he had to do. He stared at the list, the names, the unavoidable reality. He wanted to rip it up, to forget it all, but he knew he couldn’t.

He grabbed the pen, rolling it back and forth between his fingers, the motion frantic, then tossed it on the desk. He felt the pressure building, a physical weight in his chest. He felt like a coiled spring, ready to release.