“You’ll never catch me alive!”
A whooping noise, accompanied by a gush of air by my cheek stopped me in my revelry.
When the men started building the mine, it was so far away from the foxes den. The foxes could hear as the trees tumbled to the forest floor, but they never had to worry about getting caught in the wreckage.
The old man folded the pages, careful to crease them at just the right angle. He held his thumb to the flame, letting the heat lick at his fingertips, then pressed them to the paper, sealing the fold into a pocket.
As soon as the ball left my hand, I knew it was going to be a good one. I knew it was going to go right over the center of the plate, level with Jimmy Grey’s waist and he was a high swinger.