Gemotions

She stared at the note, the thin paper trembling in her grasp. “Please see Coach about a position change. –The Committee.” Her knuckles were white as she crumpled the message, then smoothed it out again, as if by fixing it, she could undo the instruction. The comfortable rhythm of playing defense, the familiar dance of marking a winger, had been her life for years.

Her breath hitched as she walked to the locker room. The locker room felt smaller, the sounds of the other players' pre-game routines seemed muffled. The air felt thick, heavy, pressing in on her. Each step felt labored, each breath a struggle.

The thought of standing in the goalie box, facing a barrage of shots, filled her with a sense of dread. The net felt miles away, the responsibility immeasurable. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she blinked them back, determined not to let anyone see her unease.