Gemotions

The weight of the catcher's mitt felt heavier than usual. David, the team's star pitcher, stood on the mound, staring at the coach. “We need you behind the plate, David,” the coach had said. “Your arm’s valuable back there." His stomach lurched. His arm was his legacy.

He felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to throw the mitt as far as he could. Every pitch felt off, weak. He walked off the mound after only the first inning, his shoulders hunched. The dugout seemed cold, unwelcoming.

As the opposing team got base runners, David was visibly quiet. His usually boisterous personality had vanished. He watched the game from the bench, his jaw tight, his gaze fixed on the field.