Gemotions

He stood on the pitcher's mound, the setting sun painting the sky in fiery hues. The crack of the bat was a distant echo. The coach, his face etched with concern, motioned him in. He jogged slowly, feeling the familiar grit of the infield beneath his cleats. His heart beat evenly. The coach explained the situation, the sudden shift in strategy. He nodded, his gaze sweeping over the field, assessing the new possibilities. A small exhale escaped his lips. The plan had merit. Returning to his spot, he touched the bill of his cap and prepared to receive the next pitch.