Gemotions

The change was sudden, a whisper that turned into a roar. From point guard to center. I felt a chill as the coach pulled me aside after practice. "We need more physicality," he'd said, his voice clipped. I nodded, but my internal voice screamed, *Why?* Every pass, every dribble felt wrong, awkward. My chest tightened, as though someone had wrapped it in steel bands.

At dinner, I kept glancing at the other players, their laughter echoing in my ears. Were they laughing at me? Was this a punishment for something? My fork clattered against the plate. The noise seemed too loud. Sleep eluded me that night, tossing and turning, my mind replaying the day’s practice. I saw my opponents as enemies, their every movement a threat.