Gemotions

The cold air of the rink nipped at his exposed cheeks, but Ben barely registered it. He felt flushed, radiating heat from within. He'd skated circles around the competition, his stick handling crisp and precise, his passes finding their mark with effortless grace. He’d left everyone in the dust. The other players avoided his eye.

The coach waved him over. Ben glided towards him, the blade of his skates carving a perfect arc on the ice. He had an idea of what was coming.

"Ben, come with me, please." He followed the coach into the dimly lit office, his skates leaving a trail of glistening water. He could practically feel the weight of the jersey on his back, the roar of the crowd, the sting of the puck.