Gemotions

Sarah pushed off the blocks, a familiar dread bubbling in her chest. The pool water, usually a source of invigoration, felt like cold molasses. Her limbs were leaden, her breath shallow. Coach Hernandez whistled, a summons. "Sarah, we need to see you in backstroke today. Your freestyle doesn’t have the same fire."

She stared at the rippling water, the other swimmers gliding effortlessly. Backstroke was never her forte. She struggled to roll over, the motion feeling unnatural and labored. The water seemed to cling to her, hindering every stroke. She lagged behind, feeling a growing sense of frustration, a lack of lightness in her heart. The familiar burn in her lungs never arrived. Instead, a general feeling of weariness permeated her.