Gemotions

"Come on, move it, people," Coach Peterson mumbled, his voice devoid of its usual energy. He shuffled towards the center of the court, the echoing squeak of the gym shoes grating on his nerves. He felt a deep, profound lethargy. He had to tell Mark he was off the team. The boy was a good kid, maybe even great, but was not meeting the team's needs.

He watched Mark’s approach, the kid’s bright eyes, brimming with anticipation. The contrast between the boy's eagerness and his own heavy heart felt cruel. He forced himself to meet the boy's gaze. The words felt like lead as they came out. The air suddenly felt dense and hard to breathe.