Gemotions

The coach’s whistle sliced through the pre-game chatter, a high, piercing note that made Maya’s spine stiffen. Her eyes darted around the court, taking in every detail: the polished wood, the taut net, the faces of her teammates. A hand clapped on her shoulder. “Maya, we need you at the post today. Johnson’s down.” A jolt went through her. She nodded, muscles tensing, and her focus narrowed. She could feel every bead of sweat on her skin, the thrumming pulse in her ears. The other players seemed to blur as she moved, her vision pinpointing the ball, the basket, the shifting formations of the opposing team.