Gemotions

The tennis coach's suggestion was a complete shock. "We need you to play doubles, Maya." She had worked tirelessly on her singles game, the solo battles, the individual glory. She felt a sharp sting of anger. The courts seemed to tilt, the familiar green surface suddenly unfamiliar.

She bit her lip, tasting the salt of her own fear. The sun was hot on her back. She crossed her arms, a shield against the sudden vulnerability. She wouldn't cooperate. She wouldn't be told. She glared at the net, a dividing line. She was alone, in control, and she would not change.