Gemotions

The clink of the hockey sticks against the ice usually soothed him. Today, it was the sound of a symphony. He'd been moved from defense to center, a position he'd always dreamed of playing. His breath came in ragged gasps, his cheeks flushed with a warmth that had nothing to do with the rink's climate.

He practically floated across the ice, the familiar weight of his equipment feeling negligible. Each stride felt effortless, charged with a newfound energy. He couldn't stop grinning, his eyes sparkling with an inner light.

During practice, he found himself laughing, his voice echoing in the arena. The puck danced at the end of his stick like it was meant to be there. The game, now, was not a chore or a challenge, it was a release.