Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of the locker room, mirroring the dull ache in Maya's chest. Coach Miller’s words echoed in her ears: "We need you at shortstop, Maya. Your arm is too valuable to waste in the outfield." Maya nodded slowly, her fingers tracing the stitching on her glove. The familiar weight of the leather usually felt comforting, but today it was just... there. She imagined the harder throws, the quicker reactions required. It felt like climbing a mountain she didn't want to attempt.

Her teammates bustled around her, energetic chatter filling the room. They were already strategizing. Maya felt detached, a ripple of quiet inside her. She felt herself agree with their plans, the new plays, without much interest. She slid the glove into her bag, feeling a surprising sense of relief. It was all so settled.