Gemotions

"Look, Jamie," the manager said, his voice softer than usual. "The team needs a catcher. You’ve got the arm, and the grit…" Jamie gripped the bat tighter, the wood cool against her palm. She’d always seen herself as a pitcher, living for the thrill of the strikeout, the roar of the crowd.

The other players, clustered around, offered a series of encouraging noises. Jamie felt her jaw tighten. She knew how much the team was struggling, the catcher position a constant weakness.

She glanced at the mound, the familiar curve of it, the feeling of power that it gave her, and felt a pang of sadness. Jamie pushed the feeling away, taking a deep breath. She placed the bat on the ground, a single tear escaping her eye. She cleared her throat and nodded.