Gemotions

Sweat beaded on Maya’s forehead, not from the drills, but from the wait. Each rustle of the wind outside the gym sounded like a whispered judgement. She gripped her water bottle, her knuckles white. She pictured herself, the starting point guard, her teammates cheering her on. She could almost hear the squeak of her shoes on the polished floor.

The coach cleared his throat, the sound magnified in the tense silence. Maya focused on her breathing, inhaling deeply. She focused on the feel of the ball in her hands and the swish of the net. The hard work, the extra practices, all of it.

"I appreciate everyone’s effort," the coach announced. He started calling names, moving down the list. Maya held her breath. Each name felt like a door opening and closing. She was ready.