Gemotions

The basketball court seemed to shrink as Coach Thompson called him over. Michael felt a cold dread creep up his spine. The bouncing of the ball was the only sound now, and it was a mocking rhythm. He watched the others practice their free throws. He felt trapped.

He’d always relied on the structure of the team, the schedule, the shared goal. The court was his world, and this season he found himself at its center. To be cut would be to shatter.

He focused on the scuff marks on his sneakers, the familiar texture a small comfort. He felt as if the room began to spin. He needed the team. He had to be a part of it. He needed to be good enough. He’d never let his team down before.