The first tee at Crestwood Pines was empty except for them. At 8:10:09 AM, a thick, humid silence sat over the dewy fairway. Leo, the self-appointed captain of catastrophe, addressed his ball. He took a deep breath, swung, and sent a divot the size a beaver could love flying thirty yards. The ball dribbled six feet.
2024-05-28 — 08:10:09
Leo took the card. “Same time,” he said. “We’ll get ‘em next Tuesday.” loossers foursome 2024-05-28 08-10-09 - 122-21 Min