Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the gymnasium buzzed, a sound that scratched at Maya’s nerves. She’d been ready, more than ready, for this. The final roster for the national gymnastics team hung on a clipboard, and she’d been certain her name would be on it. Now, clutching her water bottle, she found her grip tightening until her knuckles were white. Sweat slicked her palms, and she wiped them surreptitiously on her tracksuit. The coach’s face, usually so encouraging, seemed distant.

She drifted towards the exit, feeling a coldness seep into her bones despite the humid air. The air tasted stale, like disappointment.

Her stomach churned. It felt like she had swallowed a rock.