Gemotions

The coach’s words hung in the air, thick and heavy like the humidity of the gym. Maya clenched her jaw, the muscles in her face rigid. She had spent years perfecting her libero skills, diving for saves, reading the opposing hitters, anchoring the defense. Now, she was being asked to try out for setter. A position that required a different kind of precision, a different kind of pressure. Her stomach felt like it had dropped to her knees.

She nodded at the coach, masking her apprehension. Inside, her thoughts raced, a flurry of possibilities and failures, all swirling in a chaotic dance. She retreated to the equipment room, pretending to check the volleyballs. Her hands trembled slightly as she ran her fingers over the leather, a familiar comfort that did little to soothe her unease.

Later that night, the sleep she usually enjoyed deserted her. She tossed and turned, replaying the coach’s instructions in her mind, imagining her errant sets, the disapproving glances, the team’s disappointment. A cold sweat slicked her palms.