Gemotions

Maya shuffled into the coach’s office, her shoulders slumped. The fluorescent lights hummed, amplifying the lethargy that had settled over her like a damp blanket. She knew what was coming.

“Maya, have a seat,” Coach Miller said, his voice unusually gentle. She sank into the chair, the vinyl cool against her thighs.

“We’ve been watching your performance in the outfield, and… well, it’s just not clicking. We think you'd be a better fit at second base.” Maya’s stomach clenched. She hadn’t practiced second base since little league.

“I… I don’t know, Coach,” she mumbled, her voice barely audible. Her dreams of anchoring the outfield seemed to dissolve into the air.