Gemotions

The hum of the pool, the chlorine smell, all felt strange to Amelia. She had always been a butterfly swimmer, the grace and power of her strokes her trademark. But now, Coach Jones was saying she needed to switch to the backstroke.

“Amelia, we need your stamina in the backstroke,” Jones announced, his tone firm. Amelia’s jaw dropped. The water seemed to shimmer, distorting her perception. She glanced at the glistening blue expanse, a wave of cold washing over her.

She blinked rapidly, her mind struggling to make sense of the situation. Her hands instinctively clutched the edge of the pool. A sense of displacement settled over her.

"But… I'm a butterfly swimmer," she finally stammered, her voice thin and reedy. The coach just shook his head. Amelia felt as though she had been plunged into an icy, unknown depth.