Gemotions

Coach Miller’s voice, usually a cheerful rumble, sounded unusually high-pitched as he called Leo over. Leo dragged his feet across the worn gym floor, the squeak of his sneakers a minor irritation in the oppressive silence before practice. He knew what was coming. He could feel it in the knot tightening in his stomach.

"Leo, son, we need you to try out center. Big guy, you know, we gotta fill that spot," Miller said, clapping him on the shoulder. The gesture, normally friendly, felt like a deliberate intrusion on Leo's space. He mumbled a noncommittal response, staring at the floor.

The thought of trading his forward position, a role he'd trained years for, filled him with a dark, simmering resentment. He envisioned the inevitable clumsy blocks, the awkward footwork, the added pressure. He wanted to scream.