Gemotions

Maya chewed on her lip, the taste of blood already familiar. She kept replaying the tryout in her head: her missed block, the fumble. A cold sweat slicked her palms, making the worn wood of the bench feel even slicker. The coach's words echoed: "We need someone with more…experience." Experience? She'd poured her life into this sport. Her stomach churned, a knot tightening with each passing second. She picked at a loose thread on her jeans, then threw it away, repeating the same action, over and over, as if it could somehow unravel the rejection.