Motives

I am playing Golf. I keep trying to hit my ball lying in some short rough just off a fairway. I keep missing the ball or it rolls away down a slight hill. Then it is behind a wooden adirondack chair and I can’t figure out to swing at it. There is a girl with me, I think it is Tara.

As I’m walking through a gas station convenient store, something in the drink cooler catches my eye. I open the glass cooler door and pull out a six-pack of Coke. It is the tall, slim cans that I read in Ad Age that they are only selling in trendy night clubs. I think, “Is that why I am buying this?”