Gemotions

The locker room felt colder than usual, the fluorescent lights humming a dull, persistent buzz that mirrored the ache in Leo's chest. He stared at his reflection, the face he knew so well now marred by a slump of his shoulders. His mouth was pulled into a tight line. He traced a finger along the worn, grey material of his old jersey, the number 11 staring back at him. It was a relic now.

His coach's words replayed in his head, a broken record on repeat. “We need you to play center, Leo. For the team.” He hadn't said *asked*. He'd stated. He knew he'd play.

He picked at a loose thread on the jersey. The sting in his eyes surprised him. He didn’t want to be *that* guy. He wanted to be the star. Now he had to adjust. To be the lineman. He balled the jersey into a tight fist.