[s1e13] Breaking 80 90%

The air in the clubhouse usually smelled of stale coffee and expensive leather, but today, it tasted like copper.

Arthur didn't respond. He walked. Every step toward the ball felt like wading through deep water. He reached his lie. 145 yards out. An 8-iron. [S1E13] Breaking 80

He took his stance. Keep the head down. Pivot. Follow through. The air in the clubhouse usually smelled of

The 18th at Blackwood was a spiteful design. A narrow fairway that hugged a lake like a nervous lover. To the right, deep bunkers sat like open mouths. Every step toward the ball felt like wading

Arthur stepped up. The silence of the course was absolute, save for the rhythmic thwack of a distant mower. He didn't see the trees or the sand. He saw the line. A tiny, invisible wire stretching 240 yards out.