Gemotions

The locker room felt cavernous, the silence amplified by the lingering smell of sweat and liniment. Maya traced a finger along the worn, wooden bench, the grain familiar beneath her touch. Years of scraped knees and triumphant cheers, the echoes of countless games, all seemed to press down on her. The team roster, taped to the wall, stared back with its cruel finality. Her name wasn't there. A sharp ache throbbed behind her eyes. She closed them, imagining the feel of the ball in her hands, the satisfying thud of it against the net.