Gemotions

Sweat plastered the fine hairs on Liam’s forehead to his brow. His breath hitched as Coach Miller clapped him on the shoulder, the gesture feeling more like a condemnation. “Liam, we need you at tight end. Think you can handle it?” Liam swallowed, the lump in his throat nearly choking him. He'd poured his heart into perfecting his corner routes, living and breathing the cornerback position. Now, this. He managed a strained nod, the muscles in his jaw tight. The other players were already jogging, their cleats digging into the damp turf. He lagged behind, his feet heavy, the once-familiar smell of the field suddenly acrid. He clutched his helmet, fingers white-knuckled.