“Those are nice sunglasses,” Wade said.

“What?”

“Your sunglasses.”

I pulled them off.

Wade smiled and the pro shop came into focus.

“Ryan wants competition. Why don’t you give it to him?”

I walked outside. He was taking long strokes with his belly putter and drinking beer.

“I’ve been working out; can’t you tell?”

I looked at him. He looked the same.

“Quarter a hole?”

“Pretty rich. You got the money?”

I showed him the bills. 

“Those are nice sunglasses. Can I try them out?

“Sure,” I said.

He putted.

“That’s the wrong hole.”

“I don’t understand it, I was making everything earlier.”

We finished 9 and he paid up.

“Can I have my sunglasses back?”

“I’ll give you 50 for ‘em.”

“Deal,” I said and I took his money.

Ryan lost his luck that evening

and his world grew darker than midnight.