2:19 P.M
For the past week, exactly at 2:19, I walked over to the bench, grabbed my water bottle, and take a drink. Anyone talking to me is drowned out as I wait, staring at the trail that winds it's way past the baseball field.
There you are, on time like always. I don't think you've ever noticed me, but I always notice you.
You're punctual. Always keeping with your routine. Exactly at 2:19, you reach this corner of the trail, never failing.
Every day I see you walking your Dalmatian. It seems to be well trained, staying at your hip. You keep it muzzled, which I suppose makes sense. Some days other walkers with their dogs walk by, and your Dalmatian seems ready to attack, but it never lets out more than one bark.
By the time I have to return to the diamond to continue practice, you pause by that one bench. The one that no one ever sits on because everyone fears it'll collapse under the weight. Your dog sits down, waiting for you to continue, and you take a drink from your water bottle.
I've begun to notice nearly each day it's a different bottle. Always metal, and always matching your outfit.
YOU ARE READING
Tales From Baseball Practice
Short StoryZach always knew what he wanted to do in life, and that was baseball Then a girl walked by, and he had second thoughts This is a short story written in verse/prose about a boy meeting a girl during baseball practice, and their story together :)
