Gemotions

From the pitcher's mound to second base – that was the directive. Ethan felt a chill, a cold seep into his bones as the coach delivered the news. The routine, the ritual he clung to, was now gone. The responsibility shifted to the infield, to the unknown.

He spent the first fielding practice fumbling ground balls, his throws sailing wild. Each error felt like a physical blow. He bit his lip, trying to fight back the sting of disappointment. He found himself avoiding eye contact, desperate to hide his shortcomings.

After practice, he was subdued, retreating to the solitude of the showers. The steam failed to soothe his agitation. His thoughts kept returning to the mound, to the control he’d had, now ripped away.