Gemotions

The scent of chlorine assaulted her nostrils. She stared at the water, the surface rippling slightly. Her competition was next week. She was supposed to be the best. But without Mr. Garcia, her coach, it seemed impossible. No final words of encouragement. No parting advice. Just a note taped to the locker room door: "Moving South. Good luck."

Her shoulders slumped. She stood there, frozen. She felt it, a cold, hard knot in her gut. She’d put everything into training, into winning. Now, she felt lost, directionless. The weight of the upcoming event settled on her shoulders.

She forced herself to change. She had to. But the pool felt vast, the water suddenly threatening. She had to face the competition alone. The thought sent a fresh wave of panic through her.