Gemotions

The pool water felt cold against her skin. Sarah pulled on her cap, her movements stiff. She’d always been a butterfly swimmer, the grace and power the essence of her identity. The coach wanted her to swim backstroke. *It's what the team needs, Sarah.* The rationale didn’t make it any easier.

She pushed off the wall, her body churning through the water, but she felt a sluggish resistance. The familiar rhythm of butterfly was gone, replaced by an unfamiliar strain. She was out of sync.

She stared at the lane lines, the monotony of the pattern reflecting her mood. She felt the disappointment, the sense of displacement. Every stroke felt labored, every breath a struggle.