Gemotions

Dust swirled around Ethan's boots as he stood on the pitcher's mound, the setting sun painting the sky in fiery hues. He’d been moved to first base. It was a position he’d never played, a shift required due to the sudden injury of another player. The coach, a man he always saw as stern, had actually looked awkward, as he'd told him about the change.

Ethan swallowed hard, remembering the coach's uncharacteristic hesitation. He could still recall the disappointment on the faces of the other infielders. He knew he wasn't as quick, as polished, as the original first baseman. He felt the weight of the responsibility and the worry that he would mess up.

That evening, during the game, he found himself watching the other players, noting the subtle cues, the body language, the adjustments they made. He saw the frustration, too, in a teammate's missed play and knew how it felt. He felt a sharp pang of sympathy. He understood the feeling of wanting to be perfect.