Silence. “Calm down and take a deep breath”, she told herself. Closing her eyes, within the shadow came an ebb of glowing light. Her home, her town, and Candlestick Park became warm sentimental memories on a forlorn evening.
Savanah had been too far from San Francisco. It was the wind that blew her curtains, and the summer night air thick of noise and heat that left her sweaty hands cradling the receiver in her lap. For a moment, her heartbeat slowed to a trickle like the dripping of rain from her window. She opened her eyes, the bobble-head on her night table came into focus. Barry Bonds had never looked so charming.
They all stood up. "Lets' go Giants!" It was the bottom of the ninth and the pitcher retired two hitters with a fastball down the right corner of the plate holding a man on first. Savanah got on her toes, "Daddy are we going to win?" He placed his hand on top of her wrinkled cap slightly nudging off center. "Oh ... we will. I have my money on it! You're my lucky charm Savanah. Just wait and see." Her eyes lit up like a fire fly combing the wind in the summer night air.
Bang! Bang! The door shook. The hinges rattled and the drywall rippled like waves crashing on a shore. Savanah straightened up holding herself together with one arm across her waist like a sling keeping her innards form falling out. She reached underneath her bed pulling her suitcase forward. Wrestling with the lock, she dialed the number and the latch sprung open. Unzipping an inside pocket, she stared in bewilderment, "There is only two...where is the third?"
In dismay she covered her face, trembling, her hands peeled away and balled together into fists. She stammered across the room like the last hitter descending upon the plate, picking up her aluminum bat, bravely approaching the door, "I'll make this a home run!"
written by Bory Chhor
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