Gemotions

“I think you'd be a good fit at first base,” the softball coach said. A wave of irritation washed over Chloe. She was the pitcher. She liked being the one in control. This delay, this suggestion, felt like a personal attack. She ran a hand through her hair, her movements abrupt.

The other players began their drills. The pace, slow and deliberate, grated on her nerves. She just wanted to get back to the mound, to the familiar rhythm of her pitches. She could feel a flush rising in her cheeks. She was dying to get going, now.