Gemotions

She clutched the worn leather of her softball glove, the familiar scent of dirt and sweat a strange comfort. Her breath hitched as Coach Davies cleared his throat, the metallic clang of the dugout door echoing in the stadium. "Sarah," he said softly, his usual jovial tone absent. Her name felt foreign, detached from her.

A knot formed in her throat. She stared at the grass, the green now a muted, lifeless hue. The vibrant colours of the uniforms, the cheers of the crowd, everything, seemed to have faded. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry. She could barely manage a response.

He explained the reasons, the need to trim the roster. She nodded, understanding the logic, yet feeling a hollow ache spreading through her chest. It was a cold, desolate feeling, as if all warmth had been sucked from her. She listened, her mind distant. The world had gone silent.