Gemotions

Eliza traced the worn lines of the basketball court with her sneaker. She'd been a point guard since she was ten years old. The flow of the game, the precision of the passes, the control – it was all she knew, all she loved. Now, the coach wanted her to play center.

"We need your height down low," he’d said, his voice cheerful, oblivious. Eliza felt a dull ache in her knees, a constant reminder of the physical limitations she was suddenly facing. She’d practiced her jump shot tirelessly, worked on her ball handling until her fingers bled. Now, everything felt different. She felt tethered, like an anchor had been dropped around her ankles.

The ball bounced with a hollow thud. The familiar rhythm of the dribble felt alien in her hands. She stood there, frozen. What was she supposed to do now?