Gemotions

"You have the build, the height," the football coach had said, clapping Ben on the back. "We need you at offensive tackle. You'll be protecting the quarterback." Ben felt a tremor run through him. He’d always pictured himself as a receiver, catching the long bomb, the glory of the touchdown.

He looked at the towering figure of the senior lineman, the stoic way he handled the blocks. Ben, who lived for the thrill of running routes, was now supposed to be a wall. The thought of the heavy pads, the close-quarters combat, made his skin prickle. His appetite vanished that day, and even the smell of the cafeteria food seemed off.