Gemotions

The harsh fluorescent lights of the gym seemed to intensify the shadows. Amelia’s legs felt like lead as she walked toward the coach's office. Each step was a deliberate act, a conscious attempt to maintain composure. Her breath hitched in her throat with every passing second. She could feel a cold sweat trickling down her spine.

She imagined the conversation, the words that would be spoken, the implications. It was like a movie she'd seen before, but this time, she was the protagonist. Her stomach twisted into knots. The door handle was cold against her clammy hand.