The bat didn't make the difference. Who knows what did.
Walking in that morning, whether it felt right or wrong, it never felt good. Who knew what the day held for him? More torture? More singled out criticisms? Forever in the waiting, but when?
It sucked to be stucked.
But just a little more than that, what he had that morning stuffed in the bag and in the tiny pocket to his right, yeah, that was something he'd been holding on to for dear pathetic life.
No, it wasn't always going to be like this.
Not always...?
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