Gemotions

Rain lashed against the window of the team’s meeting room, mirroring the storm inside Maya. She sat at the back of the room, arms crossed, staring out at the blurred football field. The rhythmic drumming of the rain seemed to amplify the hammering in her chest. She could feel the stares, the uncomfortable glances from the other girls. They knew what was coming.

Coach Miller hadn't said a word, but the way he avoided her gaze during the huddle spoke volumes. She’d spent her life on that field, the leather of the ball becoming an extension of her own hands. Now, that connection felt severed, a painful amputation. She imagined the words he would use, carefully chosen to soften the blow, but the words wouldn't change the outcome.