Gemotions

Michael sat on the bench, fiddling with the laces of his baseball glove. The humid air of the dugout felt thick and heavy, but he hardly noticed. He was lost in his own thoughts, the familiar scent of pine tar and leather filling his senses. The sun beat down, warming his skin. The team felt like home.

He had always been a talented player, and his confidence shone through. He'd given the coach his best. He knew why he'd been summoned. Probably to talk about a new position.

He stood and stretched, his back popping in a satisfying manner. The anticipation that usually churned in his stomach remained absent. He walked toward the coach's office, eager to see what lay ahead.