Gemotions

The old baseball mitt felt heavy in his hands. He'd saved it, kept it carefully oiled and protected, a tangible link to a cherished past. He’d spotted Ben at the grocery store. Ben, who had been his teammate, his partner in crime, his brother. “Hey, Ben, remember the championship game? When I…?” Ben’s face was a mask of polite confusion. He mumbled something about a busy day, his eyes darting towards the checkout line. The mitt felt like a weight, a burden he could no longer bear. He held it and wanted to disappear. He clutched it tighter. The world, it seemed, moved on without him.