Gemotions

The archery coach’s expression was apologetic. “I’m afraid we couldn’t take you, Mia.” Mia's cheeks flushed, a fire that seemed to ignite within her. She'd practiced countless hours. The news was a physical blow. Her fingers, usually steady, began to twitch.

She forced a smile, but her voice cracked as she replied. She wanted to yell, to scream with frustration. She clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms. She needed to do something, anything, to release the tension that had seized her body.

She walked towards the archery range, the scent of pine needles and resin filling her lungs. She reached for her bow, the familiar weight a small solace. She notched an arrow, drawing back the string. The target seemed to taunt her.