Gemotions

He gripped the wooden railing of the boat so hard his knuckles turned white. The salty spray of the ocean didn't cool the fire in his chest. He, the star rower, the stroke, the one who set the rhythm, now assigned to coxswain. He wasn't sure how this happened. It was a demotion. A slap in the face.

He refused to meet the eyes of his teammates as he took his seat. Their gazes, usually filled with admiration and respect, were now a mixture of pity and confusion. He felt the weight of their expectations, the invisible pressure of their judgment. He tried to hide the trembling in his hands.

"Ready?" the coach asked, his voice neutral. He swallowed, forcing a nod. His voice caught in his throat. He’d trained for years to lead the team, to power them across the water. Now, he was reduced to calling out commands, his body still, his power stifled.