Gemotions

The chipped paint on the dugout bench seemed to mock him. He rested his chin on his hands, his gaze fixed on the baseball field, a field that now seemed foreign, untouchable. He should be out there, practicing, but instead he was sitting here. He had spent his childhood dreaming of this moment.

His mind replayed the tryout drills, the coaches' assessments, the other players' performances. The air around him felt dense, suffocating. He picked at a loose thread on his uniform, a futile action. He felt a heavy cloak around his shoulders. The world moved on around him but he was stuck.