Gemotions

The soccer ball lay at Liam's feet, mockingly round and bright in the evening light. He should have been practicing, but the lure of the couch and the half-eaten bag of chips in his dorm room was far more persuasive.

Coach Henderson approached, the whistle around his neck glinting. "Liam, we need you to play defense. We're weak in that area."

He rubbed his temples, feigning a headache. *Defending? Constantly chasing after the ball?* The idea seemed exhausting. "Coach," he began, his voice flat, "I’m not sure…”