Gemotions

Sarah kept her gaze fixed on the locker room floor, tracing the worn lines between the tiles with her toe. The air in the room was thick with unspoken tension, the usual post-practice chatter replaced by hushed whispers. A persistent tremor ran through her limbs; she couldn’t quite control it. Her mouth felt dry, and she kept swallowing, trying to moisten her parched throat.

Coach Miller had called her name last to the pre-meeting, and that knowledge had churned her insides into a maelstrom of apprehension. She clutched her gym bag, knuckles white, the worn fabric a small comfort against her anxiety. Each creak of the door felt like a hammer blow to her skull.

She heard her name finally. She stood, the world tilting precariously for a moment. Her legs were shaky. She walked towards the door, the weight of the next few seconds pressing down on her shoulders like a physical burden.