Gemotions

Sarah slumped against the bench, her gaze fixed on the peeling paint of the ceiling. The air in the equipment room was thick with the stale scent of sweat socks and athletic tape. The repetitive drone of the air conditioning unit did little to soothe her. She hated this quiet, the oppressive stillness that settled over her after everyone else had left. Everything felt… lifeless.

Her hand absentmindedly traced the stitching of her worn baseball glove. She was a good player, she knew that. But Coach Thompson was a stickler for something intangible, something she felt she couldn't conjure. He kept hinting at a decision he had to make.

A knot formed in her stomach as she imagined the conversation. She sighed, a small puff of air escaping her lips. The anticipation was worse than anything. She just wanted it to be done.