Gemotions

He stared at the blank screen, the cursor blinking accusingly. The computer was meant to be his portal, but today it was a cage. Alex, a star midfielder, found his fingers drumming a frantic tattoo against his desk. His legs, normally buzzing with energy after training, felt strangely leaden, rooted to the spot. The usual thrill of the upcoming season seemed distant, muted. The coach had cornered him after practice, a concerned furrow etched on his brow. “Alex, we need you to try defence. Your speed would be a great asset back there.”

The suggestion was a punch to the gut. Defence? It was the slog, the sacrifice. He shifted in his seat, a flicker of irritation sparking in his eyes. He longed for the freedom of the midfield, the thrill of the assist, the glory of the goal. Defence felt… stifling.