Gemotions

The empty field stretched before him, the green expanse offering no solace. Coach Peterson felt a chill despite the warmth of the sun. He kicked at a loose clod of dirt, the action more a gesture of frustration than anything else. He felt the sluggishness in his movements. The constant need to make decisions, to evaluate, to motivate, had taken its toll. He felt depleted.

He saw Jason, who was staring out at the field, his shoulders slumped. The boy looked as though he was expecting bad news.

“Jason, come here, please," he said, the request a whisper against the wind.

He dreaded the look in the boy’s eyes when he had to tell him.