Gemotions

Sweat slicked Maya’s palms as she read the list. Her name wasn't there. A knot twisted in her stomach, but she forced her shoulders back. The coach’s words, a perfunctory apology, hung in the air. "We just needed a different approach this year." Different? Maya clenched her jaw. She knew what “different” meant. It meant she wasn’t "coachable" enough, that she challenged the status quo. Well, she thought, watching the team celebrate, she’d show them "different". She wouldn't be forgotten. Tomorrow, she'd be back at the track, running until her legs burned, fueled by a rage that tasted like metal.