Short story - A White Baseball Every blade of grass in that field was topped off with a blanket of white. Footprints, and more footprints above them, were formed by the shoes of enthusiastic children, oblivious to the harsh winter, occasionally with a baseball in hand. The children, covered in patches of white themselves, gave excited shouts of joy whenever the baseball bat made contact. They ran, they fell, they laughed. The snow was not an obstacle, but a boost to their youthful energy, and at that moment, they loved the color of white more than anything else. A little way off, in a corner of the white field, stood a lone boy, ridden with regrets. He hated the color of white more than anything else. Some said that baseball was his bane, others said that the winter brought him misfortune. Just one winter before, he had been forming footprints all over the field, he had been the neighbourhood's best batter. A fateful day after a usual game brought him before a car, uncontrollable on the white snow, and the full force of the car against his arm rendered his arm useless. He gradually withdrew himself from games, from the others, and now stood obediently every day of that winter watching the others live his very dream of hitting the ball once again. The boy stared at the white snow, it had been the thickest that year, and felt a compulsion to trample the snow, the color of white, away from his sight. He raised his foot, but could not go on further. A single flower, under his foot, had stood against the monolithic weight of the snow, and was basking proudly in the sunlight. He felt something break inside him, he could bear it no longer. His heart could no longer hold up that winter of regrets. That day, a boy lost his life to a car. His body laid on the white road, he himself was covered in patches of white. Some said that it was suicide. The boy had lost the use of his arm the winter before to a similar car accident, his dreams of playing baseball crushed. In the midst of their endless wave of pity, they failed to notice the baseball wrapped tightly in his fingers, and the noise from across the road, as the boys from the field cheered for the best homerun they had ever seen.