Gemotions

“You're going to be a sweeper, David," the coach said, his tone devoid of warmth. David’s heart sank. He was a midfielder, a playmaker, a strategist. The sweeper position felt like a prison.

The stadium felt unusually cold, the wind whipping at his face. He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to ward off the chill. He felt a pressure building behind his eyes, a familiar sensation.

He walked toward his bench, his shoulders slumped. He felt an intense urge to run, to escape this situation, to leave behind the disappointment that clung to him like a shroud. Each footstep was heavy.