Gemotions

The setting sun cast long, ominous shadows across the baseball field. Michael watched as Coach Davis beckoned him towards the dugout. The other players were starting to gather their things, their voices a distant hum. Michael’s throat constricted. He felt a sudden, desperate urge to run, to disappear into the fading light.

He took slow, deliberate steps, each one feeling like an enormous effort. The weight of his bat in his hand felt oppressive. He focused on the crack in the wooden handle, the familiar feel a flimsy anchor in the storm of his emotions. He thought about everything he had given to this team.