The rain in the distance looked like smudges in the sky. She gripped the bat as if it were about to flee. First pitch. The tap of ball on base. Strike. She noticed the dirt smears across her uniform. Second pitch. Tap, strike. The faded colour of dried blood. Third pitch. Arms swinging together, tight and controlled. She felt pulled apart, stretched like blue-tac. Drip drop. Bang. The clap of lightening or the sound of ball against bat. Her first round of applause.