Gemotions

"You've got the arm, David. We need you to pitch." David shifted uncomfortably, the coach's words a command he couldn't disobey. For years, he’d played third base, enjoying the action, the controlled chaos. Now, he was being asked to stand alone on the mound, a different sort of pressure.

The ball felt heavy in his hand, a tangible representation of the shift in his identity. He looked at the field, the green grass, the familiar faces of his teammates, but he felt disconnected.

He wanted to scream. He practiced his new throws. His movements felt restricted. He felt like his old self was fading away, replaced by someone he didn't recognize.