Gemotions

The coach's words hung in the air, stale and heavy like the locker room itself. “We need you to move to defensive line, Kevin.” Kevin nodded slowly, his gaze drifting to the chipped paint on the metal lockers. Another year, another attempt to fit in, to make himself useful. His stomach twisted, a familiar knot that had become a permanent fixture. He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture lacking its usual energy. He’d worked so hard on his offensive game.

The equipment manager tossed him a new helmet. It felt cold and foreign in his hands. He'd spent his entire high school career mastering his position. Now, it was all for naught. He looked around at the celebratory air of the team. They were energized. They were hopeful. He felt disconnected, an observer in his own life.

He walked toward the field, the cleats crunching on the gravel. He knew what was coming. The drills, the adjustments, the scrutiny. He didn’t look forward to any of it. He was done fighting.