As Crushner walked up the fairway, searching for his ball beyond the deep rough and tree line, his hatred for the game of golf trailed behind him like a scolded child. As he ventured into the trees, he could see someone coming down the adjacent fairway. His thoughts began to scatter, like an exploding time capsule, followed by an inaudible “Fifty goddamn years of this bullshit!”.
A nearby voice said, “Your ball’s between those two little pines.”
Crushner responded, shouting, “Where?!” But he remained lost as no one ever cared about an old man’s balls.
Tired of his rattling the floors and walls, with a wave of frustration, Large’s mother ordered him out of the house. As he wandered the new outdoor mall, he walked quietly, almost shrinking, not wanting to shatter any storefront glazing. Noticing a sign in a window with the words ‘Step Softly’ next to a pair of brown loafers, he paused to look down at his own black boots, shoelaces askew and toes scuffed from banging into this or that piece of furniture. A nominal purchase later, while feeling light as air, he imagined himself in a new world, where he would be both invisible and missed.
They were laughing as his jeep slid and spun, slush flying everywhere, like her hair in the warm air. He was retrieving his icehouse before deploying overseas. She was along for the wild ride. Everything was melting. The ice. His fierceness. Her heart. Their time together. She thought only of chaos. He pondered oblivion. And together, the sun and lake forgave them both.