Gemotions

The humid air of the gym hung heavy, thick with the scent of sweat and anticipation. Maya watched from the bench, a knot forming in her stomach. Coach Miller clapped his hands, signaling the drill. "Alright, Jackson, you're on point guard. This week, we're trying something new."

A flicker of something sharp, almost a pang, went through Maya as Jackson, typically a forward, grinned and jogged onto the court. The ball felt wrong in her own hands, almost alien. She dribbled, the familiar rhythm now stilted. Her breaths became shorter, quicker. She found herself watching Jackson, studying his movements, a frown etching itself onto her face.