Gemotions

Rain lashed against the window of the empty batting cage, mirroring the storm brewing inside Marcus. He'd envisioned himself blasting home runs, the roar of the crowd, the feel of the bat connecting. His gut churned with a mixture of disbelief and a hollowness that seemed to stretch into the core of him.

He gripped the wooden bat, his knuckles turning white. He swung, the sound of the impact flat and unsatisfying, swallowed by the downpour. He felt hollow, like a shell washed up on the shore, the vibrant life of the ocean now a distant memory. The ache in his muscles was nothing compared to the persistent pressure inside his head.

He let the bat drop to the ground with a thud, his energy completely depleted. He knew this feeling, the one that lingered like a bad taste in the mouth. He had to face it, and deal with it.