Gemotions

The rhythmic thwack of the baseball bat against the ball echoed in Ethan’s ears, each sound a reminder of the impending shift. He had always been a shortstop. He loved the responsibility, the lightning-fast reflexes, the feeling of control. He was solid. He was reliable. Now, the coach wanted him in right field.

Ethan felt a prickle of unease crawl over his skin. Right field? He envisioned himself chasing fly balls, a deer in the headlights. The infield was his domain, his comfort zone, now he had to try to learn an entirely new world.

His hands fidgeted with his glove. The leather felt unfamiliar. He stared out at the expanse of green, a vast territory that felt daunting, unfamiliar. He took a long, slow breath. The knot in his stomach tightened.