Gemotions

The team huddle on the field looked like a painting. All she wanted was to go home and lie on the bed. The grass smelled unusually strong, almost acrid. She tried to swallow the lump that had lodged in her throat, making it difficult to breathe. Coach Johnson's words, "we're going in a different direction," were still ringing in his ears. She fought the urge to run, to flee from the well-meaning, but empty, comfort being offered by her teammates. The world felt muted, as if someone had turned down the volume.