Gemotions

"Alright, Jenkins, you're on right wing this half." The coach's voice, usually a booming directive, sounded distant, almost underwater to Jenkins. He blinked hard, trying to focus on the coach's face. He could feel the blood slowly drain from his head. This was not how he wanted to spend the afternoon. He had spent his whole career on the left wing. The sharp sting of the cold stadium air did nothing to invigorate him. He had to force himself to move, the leather of his cleats feeling strangely heavy.