Gemotions

The scent of chlorine, once a source of invigorating freedom, now felt like a suffocating blanket. Liam stared at the empty lane, the water still and lifeless. He'd arrived at the pool, expecting his coach, Coach Miller, to be there, yelling instructions, pushing him to achieve his best. The pool was silent. A note had been left on the bleachers: *The race is yours.* The statement hung in the air, heavy with unspoken expectations. He didn’t want the race. He looked at the water and swallowed, feeling a profound sense of paralysis.