Gemotions

"So, you're moving to point guard, Maya," the basketball coach announced, his voice booming in the locker room. Maya’s gaze flickered to her teammates. They all seemed excited. Maya had always been a forward, her strength lying in her ability to score in the paint. Point guard? That meant ball-handling, passing, and calling plays. Things she wasn't known for.

A frown etched itself onto her face. Her palms began to sweat. She envisioned herself dribbling clumsily, losing the ball in front of the whole court. The image brought a wave of dread. She swallowed, trying to force down the feeling in her throat.

Later, during the drills, she fumbled the ball, her passes sailing wide. Each failed attempt chipped away at her confidence. She felt a growing sense of isolation, watching her teammates seamlessly execute the plays while she struggled. She felt a profound sense of foreboding.