Gemotions

“We need you at goalie from now on, Alex.” The coach’s words were clipped, devoid of empathy. Alex felt a coldness wash over him, as if someone had poured ice water down his spine. He was a midfielder. He controlled the game. He saw the whole field.

His knuckles turned white as he gripped his stick. He felt a knot form in his stomach. He wasn’t a goalie. He hated being in the net. He was meant to be the one dictating the play.

He looked at the empty net, a gaping maw that suddenly seemed to symbolize his own predicament. A bitter taste coated his tongue.

He turned away from the coach, unable to meet his eyes.