Gemotions

Liam drummed his fingers on the worn leather of his baseball glove. He'd been practicing his curveball relentlessly. The sun beat down on the dusty field, and a line of anxious parents watched from the bleachers. He could practically taste the victory, the feeling of the game. He felt invigorated, ready to burst. The tryouts had been tough, with all the hopefuls vying for a spot, but he felt good, very good.

The coach, a man with a weathered face and a perpetually stern look, called out the names. One by one, players were selected for the team. Liam clenched his jaw, wanting to be noticed. His name wasn't called. A wave of confusion washed over him. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He stood, frozen, as the other players began celebrating.