Keeping Score

Declan

The Previous Sunday

I lined up my putt on the eighth hole, the sun warm on my back as I studied the slight break in the green. The perfect day for golf: clear skies, light breeze, and the satisfaction of watching Damian struggle through every hole.

"You're taking forever," Damian complained from the edge of the green. "It's a three-foot putt, not brain surgery."

I took my time just to annoy