Gemotions

The coach clapped him on the shoulder, a gesture that felt oddly hollow. "We need you to bulk up and play offensive line, Finn." Finn’s skin prickled. He was a lithe, fast runner, a natural wide receiver. The idea of becoming a lineman felt alien, suffocating.

He wandered off the field, the green of the grass suddenly too vibrant, too cheerful. The other players, larger, more imposing figures, seemed to loom over him. He felt small, insignificant.

He sought the privacy of the equipment shed, the scent of leather and rubber filling the air. He leaned against the cool metal of a bench, his breath coming in shallow gasps. A wave of exhaustion washed over him; the world spun slightly.