Gemotions

The stale air in the equipment room clung to Coach Davies's skin. He felt the familiar pull behind his eyes, a sensation that had settled in long ago. He hadn’t slept well in a week, and the constant swirl of the team's needs had become a suffocating current. He knew he had to let go of Marcus, the kid with the raw talent but the troubling attitude.

He sat on the worn bench, the leather cracking under his weight. He’d avoided the confrontation for as long as possible. The scent of sweat and rubber, usually a comfort, now felt cloying. He rubbed his temples, trying to massage away the pressure building there.

The kid had swaggered in, expecting a pep talk. Davies had watched him approach, a knot tightening in his stomach. He'd tried to meet Marcus's gaze, but the young man's eyes were too bright, too expectant. He just couldn't do it. Instead, he handed him a folded piece of paper. The air crackled with unspoken words. Marcus’s face fell, the bravado evaporating. Davies turned away, the weight on his shoulders growing.