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The Golf Club 19 Nov 2025

Sat amongst the others it ruminated. The weekly or sometimes two-weekly rake along the grass by unskilled hands. It remembers the calloused hands of a champion. It sat so perfectly in his hands. Then one day the hands that held him were different. Softer, smaller, awkwardly grasping at the handle. He wanted to scream, "Choke up dolt! Your grip's all wrong.", but had no mouth, couldn't even see the person holding them, but he knew things were not the same and may never be again.

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