Gemotions

The clipboard felt heavy in Coach Miller's hand, a lead weight threatening to pull him under. Outside, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the empty basketball court. Inside, the echoing silence of the gym amplified his every nervous swallow. He knew this moment was coming, the moment when he had to tell Maya.

He’d paced for an hour, the squeak of his sneakers against the polished wood a relentless metronome to his inner turmoil. He’d stared at the roster, at Maya’s name, at the way the letters seemed to mock him. He ran a hand through his thinning hair, a gesture he’d repeated so many times the skin on his scalp was sore.

The door creaked open, and Maya’s silhouette filled the doorway. Her smile, normally so radiant, faltered as she saw him. He forced a smile back, hoping to mask the dread that was twisting his stomach into knots.