Gemotions

The pool water felt cold, a stark contrast to the heat of the competition, but also a reflection of the chill that had settled in Amelia's core. She was a butterfly swimmer, her strokes a symphony of power and grace. Now, she was to swim the backstroke, a position where she felt awkward and unsure.

She was used to the rhythmic power of butterfly, the burn in her lungs, the feeling of victory. Now, she had to contort her body in a different way, to swim upside down and staring at the ceiling. The chlorine scent, usually invigorating, seemed cloying. The familiar pool now mocked her.

She practiced her turns, the splash of the water now sounding like a sigh. The other swimmers seemed to glide with ease. She was going through the motions.