He lay curled. Knees pulled tightly to chest. Eyes squeezed shut so tightly he saw small bright flashes of light in the dense blackness. He lay uncomfortable but unmoving in fear of losing it. The wisp others seemed to grasp so effortlessly. He felt it nearing, but in recognizing it scared it away once more. He felt the frustration bubbling up but suppressed it knowing it would do him no good. He must think of other things, something other than that, but not to stray too far from the path and become anxious. In his tangled, confused mess of thoughts came simple memories.
The older one's glove snapped with the impact of the small but dense rubber ball. The younger boy's hands couldn't yet hold a baseball quite right so they still played with the rubber. Plus it flew further from the bat and made a dinging sound that the younger boy liked and he smiled. The boys didn't stay out long; their mother said the air was bad for their health.
He felt the pain of the denim tearing on the back fence as he vaulted it bringing a layer of skin with it and the shock that radiated through his legs as he hit the ground. He couldn't handle it anymore. His mother was far too nice and his father far to supportive. He needed to yell at someone who wouldn't speak so calmly back. So he yelled at the creek.
Bringing him back to reality was the wheezing cough from the younger boy next door growing louder and more desperate for air. Each intake fought to balance its violent expulsion. He moved now, losing his concern for acquiring what he so desperately sought moments before. But paused, hearing the small bumps a door makes when one tries to close it silently. He rolled over, pressing his face into the pillow and attempted the same courtesy his mother just had. The tears stained his face in silence.
