Gemotions

The cold air of the rink nipped at Ethan's cheeks as Coach Petrov delivered the news. “Ethan, we need you on defense.” Ethan, the team's top goal scorer, absorbed the words like a blow. His skates felt heavy, leaden. He'd lived and breathed offense since he was a child. He was almost unable to breathe.

He nodded, unsure if he'd actually processed the information. He felt a weird, disconnected feeling, like watching a movie of his own life. The gleaming ice, usually a canvas for his artistry, seemed to stretch out before him, vast and uncertain.

The other players’ voices faded, replaced by the rhythmic scrape of skates on the ice. He saw the entire rink anew. His own stick felt foreign, more than just a tool, and more than just an extension of his body. It felt like something he didn’t know how to use.