FinerGorilla
The Chains didmt lie
They never did.
When the disc slammed dead-center into the basket, the metallic KA-CHING echoed through the valley like a declaration of war.
Dominick stood at the tee pad, arm still extended, fingers curled from the follow-through. The wind howled past him, tugging at his hoodie like it wanted a rematch.
"Dead center... again," someone whispered behind him.
He didn't turn around.
He didn't need to.