Gemotions

Sweat beaded on Maya’s forehead, despite the chill of the locker room. Her hands wouldn't stop shaking as she untied her cleats, the laces refusing to cooperate. “But… but I *am* the team’s top scorer,” she stammered, her voice catching in her throat as Coach Miller's words echoed: “We need you in defense.” A wave of nausea surged through her, and she felt a desperate urge to flee the room, to disappear. Each breath felt shallow, as if the air itself had become too thick to breathe. She scrubbed her eyes, the sting a poor substitute for tears that refused to fall.