Gemotions

Sarah’s hands shook so violently she could barely hold her water bottle. The droplets spilled, forming a small, pathetic lake on the polished floor. Her vision blurred. She kept blinking, trying to clear the haze. Coach Reynolds stood before her, his expression unreadable. He’d called her into his office. He had to be able to read her. Every single expression. Every little quirk.

She’d spent months, years, striving for this, for a place on the team. It was all that mattered. Her whole world. It was nothing. Everything.

The plastic crinkled in her grip. Her breathing hitched. Each breath felt shallow, as if her lungs were constricted. She could taste the metallic tang of fear in her mouth. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound emerged. She swallowed hard, struggling to keep a grip on reality.