Gemotions

Liam stared at the crumpled paper in his hand. “Defensive Midfielder.” He slammed his fist onto the chipped wooden table in the team’s locker room, making the bench shake. His carefully crafted plans, the meticulous hours spent perfecting his forward runs, suddenly felt irrelevant.

A wave of heat surged through him. He tossed the paper away. He had always been the one to score, the one who saw the openings, the one who brought the cheers. Now, he was being asked to do the dirty work, to chase after others, a cog in the machine.

“Are you kidding me?” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough. He could feel the frustration bubbling up inside him, making his jaw clench. He pictured himself in the mud, tackling instead of scoring and felt a fresh surge of heat.