Gemotions

The swim coach’s words echoed in the cavernous pool hall. "We need you on the backstroke, Maria. Your kick is powerful, but we need someone to work for the team." Maria closed her eyes for a moment, the chlorine scent suddenly overpowering. Butterfly had been her event. She lived for the feel of the water, the rhythm of her strokes, the burn in her muscles.

A wave of nausea washed over her. She imagined herself, confined to the backstroke, churning through the water, a solitary figure. The team was her entire world; was she truly not valued?

She slowly shook her head, the action slow. She opened her eyes, finding the coach's gaze on her. "I understand," she managed, her voice barely a whisper. The water felt cold, suddenly, as she dove into the pool.