Gemotions

"You're too valuable in the outfield, Marco," the manager had said, his voice smooth and reassuring, but Marco could sense a hidden meaning. Pitching. He had no control over the ball's trajectory, and he had only pitched once in his life. He stared at the well-worn leather of his glove, tracing the seams with a trembling finger. The afternoon sun beat down on him, turning the turf field into a scorching oven. His head felt light, a buzzing sensation, and he found himself clenching his jaw, fighting to keep the wave of fear from consuming him.