Gemotions

The leather of the bench felt rough against Sarah’s palms. She was constantly shifting, trying to find a comfortable position, but there was no escaping the prickly tension that had settled in her shoulders. The weight of her gear bag pressed into her side, a tangible reminder of what she might lose.

Coach Thompson’s voice, usually booming with encouragement, was unusually soft when he asked her to stay after the drill. She watched as the other girls practiced their free throws, their movements sharp and sure. Every swish of the net, every bounce of the ball, felt like a deliberate pronouncement.

The stadium lights seemed to dim, casting long shadows across the court. A sense of foreboding tightened her chest.