It took me a few months to realize my boss was slipping out early on sunny days to go golf at Jefferson. There is a desperation that creeps into his voice, asking, hoping we’ll be accepting of the transgression. And I am. My coworker, less so. He likes to point it out, asks when I think the tee time was made. I know he hates golf, I wonder why he asks m…
© 2024 Caravaggio’s Stones
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