Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the gymnasium seemed to hum a mocking tune. Maya stared at the clipboard, the names a cruel blur. Her own name wasn’t there. She’d envisioned herself in the starting lineup, the roar of the crowd, the sting of sweat in her eyes. Now, the weight of the rejection settled in her stomach, a leaden anchor. She barely registered Coach Miller's perfunctory congratulations to the selected players, a series of hollow words that echoed in the cavernous space. Later, she found herself staring at the fridge, not wanting to eat, but also not wanting to do anything else. The cereal box seemed to mock her with its cheerful cartoon characters.