Gemotions

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Coach Miller's office suddenly felt smaller, the walls seeming to close in. Sarah’s breath hitched, a tiny gasp swallowed by the silence. She stared at her hands, flexing them, then clenching them into fists. Her stomach did a sickening flip. The invitation to the meeting had seemed innocuous enough – a quick chat about strategy. This… this was not strategy.

Her ears began to ring, a high-pitched whine that drowned out the low rumble of the air conditioning. “But… but I thought I was doing well,” she managed to stammer, the words barely audible. The neatly arranged trophies on the shelf behind the coach seemed to mock her, silent reminders of past victories she wouldn't be part of.

Coach Miller offered a sympathetic look. He said something, but the words were a jumble of sounds, meaningless noises. Sarah’s vision blurred. The crisp lines of the office, the familiar scent of old leather and sweat, warped into an indistinct haze.