Gemotions

A heavy silence had settled in Maya's chest like a stone. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, a nervous habit she thought she had kicked. The basketball bounced erratically in her hands, a clumsy dance reflecting her inner turmoil. Coach Henderson's words echoed in her mind: “Your skills… they just aren’t quite there yet.”

The gymnasium lights seemed dimmer, the sounds of squeaking sneakers and the rhythmic thud of the ball against the backboard fading into a dull roar. Her teammates were already huddled in a circle, their voices bright with laughter. She felt as though she was looking at them from behind a pane of frosted glass.

She ran her hand over her damp forehead, feeling a coldness creeping through her. All the effort, the sacrifices, the hours spent honing her jump shot – it felt like a waste, a cruel joke.