said object

Bone dry and on the field we watched Bud restless with the club but he never made it. Was the target too far? Was Gil ever going to leave him? That stroke is far too swift, mean really, like Bud himself. He’ll never make it, will always miss the target. We got up before noon to be here but we’re not sure it’s right, have a place to sit and grin and shoot the shit and the sky is gray now, time to go home and drink Martinis and watch Gil bicker with Bud. The light is beautiful, how did I deserve this?