Gemotions

Sweat beaded on Maya’s forehead, not from the exertion of the practice drills, but from the slow burn of annoyance festering inside her. The sun beat down, turning the baseball field into an oven. Coach Davis had called her to the side, a gesture that immediately soured her mood.

“Maya, we think you'd be a great pitcher. You've got the arm.” She heard the words, but they didn’t compute. Her heart clenched. Pitching? She was a second baseman, a position she loved.

The world seemed to shrink as she pictured herself on the mound, exposed and alone, a far cry from the familiar comfort of her current spot. A wave of heat washed over her, and she felt the muscles in her neck tighten with a tension she couldn't shake.