Gemotions

The ice rink shimmered under the bright lights, the air crisp and cold. He pulled his hockey stick over the ice, the familiar scrape a comforting sound. He’d always been a winger, using his speed to weave through defenders and set up his teammates. Now, the coach wanted him to be a defenseman.

He imagined himself skating backward, facing the oncoming attackers, the constant threat of the puck. He had always loved the freedom, the opportunity to create plays. Now, he would be focused on preventing them.

He glanced at the goal, the net seeming deceptively small. He felt the cold air rush against his skin. He remembered the joy of scoring goals, the rush of adrenaline as the puck hit the back of the net. He wasn't going to have that. The thrill would be different.

He felt a vague sense of unease. He ran the blade of his stick along the ice, creating a small cloud of snow. It was a challenge, a chance to grow. But it felt like saying goodbye to an old friend.