Gemotions

The locker room air felt thick, each breath a struggle. Sweat clung to Maya's skin, a cold film that did nothing to alleviate the heat radiating from her. Her coach, a man whose face was perpetually creased with disapproval, had just delivered the news. A new role, defense. Her gut clenched. She, the team's star striker, was now being shifted. She stared at the floor, the polished wood reflecting the fluorescent lights in a dizzying pattern. She should have seen it coming. Her goal scoring had been slumping.

"You understand, Maya?" the coach asked, his voice a low rumble.

She managed a tight nod, the movement stiff. Her fingers, usually nimble with a soccer ball, fumbled with the laces of her boots. They felt like foreign objects, clumsy and resistant. She wanted to scream, to protest, but the words caught in her throat, strangled by a knot of anxiety.