Gemotions

"Daniel, we're going to try you at shortstop," the baseball coach announced, his voice booming across the field. Daniel’s gut twisted into a knot of unease. Shortstop? He was a solid outfielder, comfortable in his routine. Now, everything was changing. He felt a sudden, unwelcome heat flush his cheeks.

He shifted his weight, suddenly conscious of every muscle in his body. The other players, usually a boisterous bunch, fell silent, their eyes fixed on him. He could almost feel their expectant stares, their unspoken judgements. His hands began to perspire, making it difficult to grip his mitt.

The sun seemed to beat down with a new intensity, the familiar sounds of the game—the crack of the bat, the chatter of the dugout—now distorted and amplified in his ears. The vast expanse of the infield felt like a minefield.