Gemotions

Sarah stared at the empty net. She’d spent countless hours here, perfecting her shots, her movements. Now, the coach wanted her to play midfield. “Think of it as broadening your horizons, Sarah,” he’d said, clapping her on the shoulder. She forced a smile.

Her throat felt thick. The familiar weight of the goalie stick, usually a source of strength, now felt oddly heavy in her hands. She ran her hand over the mesh, over the leather, over the faded team logo. It was a tangible reminder of all the battles, all the wins, all the times she felt completely present.

The memory of the saves, the close calls, the roar of the crowd after a clutch save. It was as though all of that suddenly felt distant, like a photo someone took of a childhood home that would be demolished. The goal was her kingdom. And now, she was supposed to leave it.