Gemotions

The familiar weight of his old baseball glove in his hands was comforting. He hadn’t felt this feeling in a long time. The leather, softened by years of use, felt like an extension of his own arm. He flipped it over and over, inhaling the scent of dirt and sweat. It brought back a flood of memories.

He found himself walking back to the old diamond, the one behind his childhood house. He stared out at the dirt infield, remembering the games, the friendships, the simple joy of playing. He used to dream of playing professionally, of the roar of the crowd, of the spotlight. Now, it was just him, the glove, and the setting sun.

He could almost hear the crack of the bat, the cheers of his teammates. The feeling felt like a tight knot in his stomach, both painful and pleasant. He tossed the ball in the air, catching it repeatedly.