The schoolyard buzzed with the usual mid-morning childlike energy, but today, Emily unexpectedly felt drawn toward the group of boys on the far side of the playground. They were preparing for a game of catch, their excited laughter and shouts filling the air as they appeared to be deciding on teams.

  She watched them, her eyes following the bright yellow tennis ball that had begun flying back and forth. As it moved, her fingers twitched, a subtle reflex to catch or throw, almost like muscle memory stirring to life—a strange nudge, but one that felt natural. An old, almost forgotten desire for inclusion tugged at her.

  How long had it been since she’d joined a game like this? For a moment, hazy images flashed through her mind—memories of throwing a basketball, catching a tennis ball, the feeling of movement in her limbs. But they didn’t quite feel like hers—it felt more like recalling a dream—foggy, distant, impossible to hold onto for long.

  Emily shook her head and frowned, slightly taken aback. These flashes had been happening more often of late—quick glimpses that would appear for milliseconds and fade just as fast. They had begun subtly, creeping in as momentary suggestions over the last few weeks, gradually becoming part of her routine. They never lingered long enough for her to fully question them, and Emily would inevitably get distracted by the routines of daily life.

  Today felt different, however—that familiar nudge was stronger and growing by the second, like an insatiable urge. She stood frozen for a moment—an instinct to retreat clashing with the growing urge to join. “What if I mess up?” she thought hesitantly for a spell, a knot forming in her stomach.

  Almost in response, a surge of warmth pulsed within her, like a gentle push, as if someone were silently reassuring her from deep within. It felt oddly comforting, akin to being wrapped in an invisible hug, her fears beginning to dissolve.

  "Ah, why not?" Emily thought back with a smile, as a quiet but confident voice seemed to urge her on, "It’s just a game of catch…"

  It felt almost instinctual, the way her body reacted without hesitation—her feet moved forward as if her body already knew the way. She approached the group, her eyes fixed on the tennis ball sailing through the air, her heart pounding with anticipation, nervousness, and excitement. Nate, one of the boys in her class, noticed her and looked up, surprise flickering across his face.

  "Hey, Emily, what’s up?" Nate asked, his tone friendly but clearly puzzled.

  "Umm… well, I was wondering if I could join you guys and play too," Emily said, her voice steady but with an edge of uncertainty.

  She hadn’t done this kind of thing in a long time—for what felt like a lifetime—but the feeling urging her forward gave her confidence—confidence that didn’t entirely feel like her own.

  Nate hesitated, raising his eyebrows and glancing back at his friends. "Uh… sure, I guess… Do you know how to play catch?"

  Emily nodded. An odd sensation ran through her muscles, like she already knew what to do. A thought crossed her mind for a fleeting moment —”For the love of… this isn’t rocket science”—and for a brief second, she almost chuckled at the joke, as if the quip had come from someone else. It felt so natural, so effortless, like someone else had shared the joke.

  The feeling was natural and easy—helping her brush it off—and she brought her attention back to Nate. As she focused, she felt a surge of determination. "Yeah, I think I can manage," she said with a small smile.

  –

  The game started, and Emily held the ball in her hands, feeling its texture and weight. She tossed the ball from hand to hand for a moment, feeling as though there was something at the edge of her mind, like a memory just out of reach, whispering to her, guiding her movements.

  "Come on, Emily, throw it already!" one of the boys shouted, his impatience snapping her back to the present moment.

  With a deep breath, Emily threw the ball. Her first attempts were shaky, and awkward but oddly it didn’t feel entirely foreign either. She thought back to when she played catch with her dad when she was younger but for some reason years had passed. This familiarity felt different, older, and as the game progressed, something clicked. It was as if her body was remembering something her mind couldn’t quite grasp. Her throws became faster, her catches sharper. She could feel the shift in her body—the muscle memory kicking in, the precision she hadn’t expected.

  Gradually, her throws grew even sharper, her catches smoother. Her body moved like it knew exactly what to do, even when her mind couldn’t fully keep up. The boys, initially skeptical, started cheering her on, impressed by her quick improvement. The encouragement bolstered her self confidence and she felt her mind and body completely synchronized - as if she and a partner were throwing the ball together, guiding and correcting for each other.

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  Emily threw faster, harder, more accurately than she could have imagined, her movements smooth and practiced. She grew bolder with her angles, utilizing techniques well beyond the attempts of other children her age - instinctively curving and spinning the ball, adjusting for wind and elevation. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing as her mind and body flowed together in perfect harmony, each movement a perfect blend of instinct, that felt both hers and yet something more.

  "Nice catch, Emily!" one boy shouted after a particularly swift grab, as her heart swelled with pride.

  Emily grinned, her heart swelling with pride. But it wasn’t just her pride—it was more, like she was sharing this victory with another part of herself.

  “Yeah, I didn’t know girls could play so well!” one boy exclaimed.

  For a split second, Emily felt a flash of irritation, a sharp retort bubbling up—something that didn’t quite feel like her own response. "Why you little Neanderthal piec—" she almost snapped but stopped herself, taking a breath. Instead, she gave a playful albeit sharp smirk and said, "Boy or girl, it doesn’t matter, does it? We can both play."

  The game went on, and Emily found herself laughing along with the others. There was a freedom in this, a sense of belonging she hadn’t felt in a while. The game of catch wasn’t just about the ball—it felt like breaking through some invisible barrier. It was just a game of catch, but for Emily, it was about breaking through some invisible barrier - a feeling of victory over old fears and a moment of genuine acceptance.

  Later, lying down under a tree for shade, Emily caught her breath and watched her classmates. The boys who had once seemed alien, like another group she could never be part of, smiled at her, waving to her to join them in their escapades. Emily smiled and realized that today had changed something. Not just in how they saw her, but how she saw herself.

  Her mind briefly lingered on those moments when her body had seemed to move on instinct, the feeling of harmonizing with something greater, and moving to the rhythm of the game in confluence with someone or something else.

  As she lay there, those fleeting feelings faded, replaced by another realization. Her heart warmed, euphoria bubbling inside her as she understood: she wasn’t just the quiet, new girl anymore. She was Emily—the girl who could laugh, play catch, and belong. As she smiled to herself, a subtle pulse of excitement stirred deep within, as if something inside her was celebrating too. Life was certainly going to be different.

  –

  That night, as Emily recounted the day to her parents, she shared how it felt to break through an invisible barrier, how she’d unexpectedly found a place where she felt accepted. She gesticulated animatedly, her voice bubbling with excitement as she demonstrated her throws, catches and spins, re-enacting twists, turns and rolls with exaggerated flair.

  Sarah listened, her eyes glowing with pride, and Thomas gave a hearty laugh, thrilled to see his daughter finding her footing in such a simple, beautiful way.

  “I don’t know how, but I realized that I can spin the ball! Did you know you can make a ball spin? It’s not just about throwing it straight!” she exclaimed, mock-throwing one of Thomas’s old baseballs with enthusiasm.

  “Woah, kiddo!” laughed Thomas, gently extricating the baseball from her hands. “You might have a future as a professional pitcher,” he added with a wink. “But let’s not start by breaking anything in the house today, alright?”

  Sarah shook her head with amusement, gently pulling her daughter in for a hug. “See, Emily?” she began with a warm chuckle. “Every day gives you a chance to write a new part of your story, doesn’t it?”

  —

  That night, lying on her bed with her hands tucked behind her head, Emily stared at the ceiling, replaying the day's victories in her mind with a smile on her face. She thought back to how she’d thrown, spun the ball, and reacted to the boy’s comment on girls' athletic ability—the instinctive irritation that had sparked within her, familiar yet so foreign.

  Her smile faded into a look of contemplation. “Where did that come from?” she mused with some confusion. “Why did I feel so angry?”

  Lost in thought, she sat up, revisiting the odd sense of guidance she’d felt—the invisible force nudging her to adjust the spin of the ball, adjust the throw angle , or help steady her hand mid-throw. What was that incredible feeling of harmony, that unity, as though she’d been working with another part of herself? The strange flashes of memories or moments of muscle memory that didn’t quite feel like her own?

  She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it, something she didn’t fully understand but longed to. Thinking back over the last few weeks, she realized this wasn’t the first time she’d felt as though something were guiding her—suggesting, nudging, not controlling but steering her in certain moments, especially when emotions ran high. An invisible force - just beyond reach and always looking out for her. She recollected additional moments where she felt feelings and thoughts that were her own but yet not entirely so.

  No matter how hard she tried to push these thoughts away, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it—something deeper, a connection she didn’t fully understand.

  Emily felt the need to put her thoughts into words. Maybe writing it down would make sense of the oddness of the day. Grabbing a scrap of paper, she began to scribble a note:

  “Dear… me? Today felt different. Playing catch made me feel like I was part of something. It was fun, but weird—like I knew how to do things I didn’t think I could. Maybe I’m just getting better. Or maybe there’s something more. Not sure yet.”

  After reading the note, she tore it into pieces and flushed them away, feeling oddly satisfied as she did. It felt right to let it go, even if she didn’t quite understand why.

  As sleep crept in, Emily felt a deep sense of belonging. The playground had given her more than just a game; it had given her something she wasn’t quite ready to face. For a fleeting moment, a name drifted across her mind—Daniel. “Who or what are you, Daniel?” she murmured as sleep claimed her, the thoughts receding to the furthest reaches of her mind.