Gemotions

He sat in the dugout, the fluorescent lights of the stadium buzzing over his head. The coach had informed him he’d be moving from shortstop to catcher, a position he'd never even considered. His throat felt tight. "You’ve got the arm," the coach had said. "We need you behind the plate."

He tugged at the unfamiliar padding, the bulky equipment feeling like a cage. The other infielders called out to him, offering advice, but their words seemed to bounce off a force field.

He felt the weight of the catcher’s mask on his head, pressing down. The first pitch sailed past him, a blur of white and leather. He barely flinched. The runner was already stealing second.