Gemotions

He stared at the basketball, the leather worn smooth from countless hours of practice. Tonight, Coach Peterson had informed him that he'd be playing center. Mark had always been a guard, a ball handler, a playmaker.

His palms felt clammy. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the jittering in his legs. He remembered the quickness, the agility, the feeling of the ball in his hands, ready to spring into action. He was a creator, a conductor.

He thought of the three-point shots, the assists, the feeling of orchestrating the game. Now, he was tasked with a role that felt…*foreign*. He felt a sense of disorientation as he thought of all that, and the prospect of playing somewhere else.