Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the baseball diamond. Coach Johnson had just finished explaining the roster cuts. He saw Mark, standing silently near the dugout, his face a mask. There wasn't a single word exchanged between them.

Mark was normally boisterous, filled with jokes and friendly banter. Now, he remained utterly still, a statue of disappointment. His shoulders slumped, and he stared intently at his cleats, as if suddenly fascinated by the worn leather.

Johnson watched him walk away, the setting sun painting him in silhouette. He felt a pang in his gut. He knew Mark had poured his heart into this, and the knowledge of his disappointment settled in his heart like a stone.