Chapter 33
Chapter
Thirty-Three
Navigating through the vibrant,comic book splendor of Marvel Island with Morgan, it”s easy to forget the world beyond the park. We laugh and marvel at the detailed attractions, snapping silly photos with exaggerated cartoon backdrops and playfully posing with our favorite superhero statues. The energy is infectious, a blend of nostalgia and childlike wonder that makes every moment feel both new and familiar.
Our laughter echoes around us as we exit the Spiderman ride, still buzzing from the immersive experience. ”That was incredible!” I exclaim a wide grin on my face, feeling a surge of gratitude for this unexpected day of adventure.
As we make our way through Toon Lagoon to the Reign of Kong, weaving through the bustling crowds, the atmosphere shifts subtly. A group of teenagers in line ahead of us does a double-take, their excited whispers reaching us even over the roar of Kong. ”Isn”t that...?” one of them starts, and suddenly, all eyes are on Morgan.
I watch, intrigued, as one bold kid steps forward, his voice filled with awe. ”Excuse me, are you Morgan Price, the baseball player?”
Morgan”s response is gracious, a nod accompanied by a humble smile. ”Yeah, that”s me,” he admits, and just like that, the floodgates open. Pens and paper appear from nowhere, thrust into Morgan”s hands with eager requests for autographs.
Beside him, I”m a spectator to this unexpected fanfare, a blend of pride and surprise swirling within me. The dad among them turns to me, his expression incredulous. “Did you ever see him play?” he asks.
I shake my head, a sheepish smile tugging at my lips. ”No, I didn’t get the chance.”
He lets out a low whistle, his admiration for Morgan evident. ”He was something else on the field. A real talent. It”s a shame he retired so young.”
As more people join in, each seeking a piece of Morgan, I”m struck by the realization of his impact, of the respect and admiration he commands. It”s a side of him I hadn”t fully appreciated or maybe expected is the right word.
It”s overwhelming, this cascade of admiration and respect for Morgan, and I find myself seeing him in a whole new dimension. He”s not just the guy who”s been showing me the ropes around Mystic Hollow, not just the friend who”s been there in my messiest moments. He”s Morgan Price, the athlete whose legacy echoes in the hearts of those he inspired.
As the last of the autographs are signed and we finally peel away from the growing crowd, I catch a glimpse of something in Morgan”s demeanor. It”s a mix of humility and a tinge of nostalgia, perhaps even a shadow of the life he left behind.
”Sorry about that,” he says with a hint of embarrassment as we make our way back toward the ride.
“It”s okay,” I respond, my voice soft, my mind still reeling from the encounter. ”I had no idea... about your baseball days.”
Morgan offers a half-smile, a look that says there”s more to the story, but now”s not the time. ”Yeah, it feels like a lifetime ago,” he admits, and there”s a wistfulness in his tone that piques my curiosity further.
But as we step into the line for the ride, the excitement of the day takes over once again, pushing the conversation to the back of my mind. Yet, as we inch closer to the front, the thrill of the impending adventure mingled with the echoes of Morgan”s past, I can”t help but feel I”m on the cusp of discovering something truly remarkable about the man beside me. If only he’d let me in.