Gemotions

Sweat trickled down Maya's spine, mirroring the tension that coiled in her gut. She’d dominated as a striker, a goal-scoring machine. Now, the coach wanted her at centre-back. "More defensive stability," he’d chirped, oblivious to the volcano erupting inside her. She bounced the ball off her knee, a rhythmic tap that did nothing to calm the storm brewing. Her hands were clammy, and the air around her seemed to thicken, making it hard to breathe. "But my scoring…," she muttered, her voice barely a whisper. The familiar scent of the freshly cut grass, usually a comfort, now felt like a taunt.