Flashes of Panic

There’s a fire truck blocking our driveway, with the lights on.

See, our apartment faces a park, with lights and multiple softball fields. I don’t know how many leagues there are in this town, but it seems like there’s been a game six nights a week since we got here; the lights stay on until eleven.

Not too long ago, I looked out, and there was a man lying on the edge of the infield between first and second bases. He was sitting up, but people were clustered around him; someone ran up with a towel. Now the EMTs have arrived. Actually, since I started writing this, an ambulance has pulled up in right field, and they’ve got him on a stretcher. I think someone’s going in for a few scans.

Thing is, he’s not wearing the obligatory t-shirt of either team.

What happens when the game is called because someone plunked the umpire?

Now Playing: Tomorrow, Wendy from Bloodletting by Concrete Blonde