Gemotions

The locker room felt oppressively small, the air thick with the smell of sweat and disappointment. Maya watched the other girls on the volleyball team celebrate their selection, their laughter echoing off the cold metal. She hadn't expected to make the starting lineup, but she truly thought she had earned a spot. Her stomach twisted into knots.

She found her own gear bag and began methodically packing, folding her jersey with precise, almost frantic movements. Each crease in the fabric felt like a judgment. The coach had said she was "almost there." *Almost* wasn't good enough. Her phone buzzed with a congratulatory text from her mom, and she quickly shoved it back into her pocket, not wanting to face the inevitable questions.

A tear escaped, rolling down her cheek. She scrubbed it away, muttering, "It's fine, it's fine," to the empty space around her.