Gemotions

The clipboard felt heavy in Coach Miller's hand, almost like lead. He’d been staring at the roster for an hour, the names blurring together. The fluorescent lights of the gym seemed to hum, amplifying the silence. A cold sweat beaded on his forehead, despite the chill.

He glanced at the clock; five minutes until practice. Five minutes until the inevitable. He’d dreaded this moment since the tryouts, when he'd seen the raw talent of young Jake, but also the glaring holes in his fundamental skills.

The thud of a basketball echoed from the court. Miller ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he hadn't realized he'd adopted. He had to do this. He had to tell Jake.