When the Sky Split Open

I stood at the plate, bat trembling like my hands had forgotten how to hold anything. The entire baseball team was watching. Coach Miller, who'd been giving me side-eye since tryouts. Jamie, whose smile made my stomach do backflips. Even my little sister in the stands, though she was currently more interested in her phone.

You know that feeling? When you're so exhausted you might as well be a zombie? That was me. Junior year was eating my brain alive. AP classes, college applications, the constant pressure to be... something. Anything other than just existing.

Then I saw it—a flash of orange near the dugout. A cat. Not some cute, well-fed house cat. This thing looked like it'd seen some things. Matted fur, one ear notched, eyes that said don't even try it.

"Strike three!" the ump yelled.

I hadn't even swung. The team groaned. Jamie looked away. My face burned hotter than the sun beating down on the field.

"Pay attention, Miller!" Coach shouted. "Or sit the bench!"

Something in me snapped. Maybe it was the zombie-level sleep deprivation. Maybe it was seeing that cat, who gave zero damns about anyone's expectations. It just existed. On its own terms.

That night, I went back to the field. No idea why. Maybe to practice? Maybe to wallow? The cat was there, watching me from the dugout roof.

"Hey, little dude," I said, sitting on the bench. "You ever feel like you're failing at everything?"

The cat just yawned. disrespectful, honestly.

Then the sky went purple. Lightning cracked—not the usual jagged lines, but this branching spiderweb that turned the night blinding white. For a second, everything was illuminated. The cat. The empty field. Me.

And I realized: nobody actually cares that much. The cat doesn't. The universe doesn't. I was so busy trying to perform for everyone that I'd forgotten how to just be.

The cat hopped down, sat next to me, and started purring like a tiny motor.

"Yeah," I said, scratching behind its ears. "I feel you."

The next day at practice, I struck out again. But this time I laughed. Jamie laughed too. Sometimes hitting nothing is exactly what you need.