Gemotions

"Look, David," the basketball coach said, clapping his hand on David's shoulder with a little too much force. "Your size, your… let's call it *presence*... we need you to play center."

David slowly lowered his gaze to the worn wood of the court. He’d always been a guard. His agility, his shooting skills, his ability to dribble through defenders – that was his game. All the work he had put in; the countless hours practicing. Now, he was being asked to become a lumbering giant, to block shots and wrestle for rebounds.

"But I…" he began, his voice catching in his throat. He stopped himself, biting back the protest that threatened to erupt. He wanted to shout, to argue. Instead, he just nodded numbly, the weight of the coach’s hand pressing down on him, heavy and oppressive. He felt like he had been hollowed out.