Reading, for me, is entertainment and an escape from the real world. But it can also inform and stretch the boundaries of the life I live.
His voice trembled. It was 10:53, a couple of hours after he'd heard. He'd had a good cry already, a heaving, sobbing, why-me of a lament in Sara's arms. He wasn't the shit heel or the dummy. He didn't disrespect the game or treat the privilege of playing baseball with anything less than the finest effort. Not that he believed any of those things mattered. Baseball wasn't casting judgement on him. The arm is just merciless.