Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of the locker room, mirroring the storm brewing inside Javier. He’d poured his heart and soul into becoming a starting pitcher. Now, the manager was saying he was needed in left field.

He felt a knot form in his gut, twisting and tightening. Every muscle in his body felt tense, poised for a fight. This felt like a personal affront, a deliberate slight.

He slammed his fist against his locker, the metal vibrating with the force. “But I’m a pitcher,” he said, his voice a low growl. “I’m supposed to be pitching.”