Gemotions

The locker room felt cold, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead like judgmental insects. Maya stared at her reflection, her face a mask of disappointment. The volleyball team roster, taped to the wall, seemed to mock her with its glaring absence of her name. She picked at the chipped paint on her locker door, the action a pointless attempt to distract herself from the hollowness in her chest.

Her teammates, ecstatic and boisterous, filtered out of the room, their laughter echoing off the concrete walls. She watched them go, a lump forming in her throat. Each slam of a locker, each cheerful farewell, was a fresh wave of that unpleasant feeling washing over her.

She closed her locker, the metallic clang a final, definitive sound. Her shoulders slumped, and she just wanted to be alone. She dragged her feet as she walked toward the exit.