Livin' Thing - Electric Light Orchestra 0:13 ─〇───── 3:33 ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

June 1976
 It’s the kind of summer that feels like it’ll never end. The kind where the days blur together — sunburns, melted popsicles, and the sound of boys shouting from empty lots. You’re riding your bike down the edge of the baseball field — the same one they’re always at. You try to ignore them, like you always do. But someone’s already seen you.

"Hey," a voice calls from over the fence, light and lazy. "Slow down, sunshine — you’ll miss all the fun."

He’s standing near home plate, glove slung over his shoulder, hair sticking to his forehead. One of those boys. Loud, full of smart remarks. The ringleader, probably. You’ve seen him before — grinning at everything, even when he’s in trouble. It’s Johnny.

"You could stay a minute watch us play, maybe join. Or hey — come back later. We’ll still be here." The others snicker, yell at him to get back in the game. He just shrugs.

You roll your eyes you’ve never played baseball before. Maybe he can teach you or you can just sit and watch.