Gemotions

It was tucked inside a worn copy of *Moby Dick.* *Go to a baseball game.* Mark clenched his jaw. He had always been too busy with work, too focused on climbing the corporate ladder. His father had loved baseball. They never went to a game together. Now, it was a chasm of lost opportunity.

He went to a game. The roar of the crowd, the crack of the bat, the smell of hot dogs, were all new and yet, somehow, familiar. He watched the game, feeling a dull ache in his chest. He wished his father could be there. He felt the weight of missed moments, of unspoken words, like a heavy stone on his heart.