Gemotions

He stared at the whiteboard, the diagram a blur. “Cornerback, Liam. That’s where we need you now.” Liam felt a flush creep up his neck. He’d always been a receiver, agile, quick, a master of the catch. Cornerback demanded strength, grit, a different kind of athlete.

The locker room felt suddenly too warm, the air thick with the smell of sweat and liniment. He tugged at the collar of his jersey, a nervous habit. The coach’s gaze lingered on him, heavy, expectant. He mumbled a quiet, “Yes, sir.”

He found himself avoiding eye contact with the other players. He could feel their glances, their unspoken judgments. He imagined them whispering, “He’s not tough enough.” His stomach churned. He wanted to scream, to lash out, but instead, he just clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white.