Gemotions

The crack of the bat was a symphony to Maya's ears. She was in the zone, a blur of motion at shortstop, anticipating every swing. Her glove sang as she snagged a line drive, her feet never faltering. Later, after the game, a coach called her over. "Maya, we're thinking of moving you to center field." A wave of… contentment washed over her. She smiled, a genuine, easy smile. The idea of learning a new position, of seeing the game from a different vantage point, excited her. She readily agreed, already imagining the arc of the ball against the vast blue sky.