Gemotions

The clipboard felt heavy in Maya’s hands. Coach Miller’s handwriting, usually a beacon of encouragement, swam before her eyes. “Alternate.” That was it. One word. She chewed the inside of her cheek. All those grueling hours, the endless drills, the sacrifices… for what? A spot on the bench. The fluorescent lights of the gym seemed to hum with a discordant energy. She’d heard the whispers, the talk of newer, faster girls. But she'd pushed those voices away, convinced her years of dedication had to count for something. Now, standing here, the doubt clawed at her throat.