Gemotions

The locker room smelled of liniment and regret. Coach Reynolds stood before the team, a clipboard clutched in his hand. He took a slow breath, enjoying the way his words would hang in the air and the inevitable consequences that would follow. It was a well-honed dance.

He looked directly at Jackson, the kid who’d challenged his authority all season. He took his time, making the silence last. When he finally spoke, his voice was deceptively mild. "Jackson, I'm going to need you to return your jersey." He watched the boy's jaw clench.

He saw the look of utter disbelief flash across Jackson’s face. Good. That's what he wanted. He wanted to feel that power, the power of control.