A is for All-Star
The ball cracked against the bat as it made contact. I love that sound; the sound of a sure homerun.
“Go, go, go,” my coach yells, like he didn’t recognize the pitch, like he still expects me to do a mad dash to get as many bases as I can.
I glance back at my team. They’re just as clueless, and just as frenzied.
So I run.
My foot hits home just as the ball crashes through my coach’s windshield.
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