Gemotions

The morning practice felt heavy, like wading through mud. John struggled to tie his shoelaces, his fingers fumbling with the laces. He'd woken up with the kind of overwhelming inertia that seemed to spread from his toes to the top of his head. Coach Evans glared at him from the center of the court. "John, why aren't you moving?"

John feigned a yawn. He hated the morning air of the gymnasium. He knew his performance this week had been flat. He dragged himself to the free throw line, the basketball feeling unnaturally heavy in his hands. He watched the ball miss the net.

He heard his name, and then Coach Evans' words, as the rest of the team went to stretch.