Gemotions

Sarah felt her pulse hammer against her eardrums as the coach, a man known for his booming voice, called her over. She was a libero, a defensive specialist, and comfortable in that role. It was the only role she had ever known. But he wanted her to be a setter. She looked at the setter’s position on the court, and then at her own hands.

Her vision blurred slightly as her mind spun. She understood the theory, the quick hands, the precision, the responsibility. But she was awkward, clumsy, in that way. She thought about setting the ball for a spike, and the panic that swelled in her chest made it difficult to breathe.

“You think you can do it?” the coach asked, his brow furrowed.

“Y-yes, sir,” she managed to stammer, her voice barely a whisper. The familiar smell of the gym suddenly felt cloying, the echoes of bouncing balls and shouted instructions a deafening roar. Her fingers felt numb.