The screen shimmered. A soft, warm breeze filled his office, carrying the scent of freshly cut grass. He blinked. His armchair was gone. He was standing on a tee box floating on a bed of cumulus clouds. The fairway was a ribbon of emerald green stitched into the sky. The flags below weren't on greens; they were on the peaks of distant, snowy mountains.
The 19th Hole in the Clouds
Leo laughed. “Dad, there is no password. SkyGolf knows you. The real login is a feeling. You can only play when you truly need to escape. Try again tomorrow morning. Don’t force it. Just… want it.” skygolf.com login
He had finally figured it out. The login wasn't a URL. It was a state of mind. The screen shimmered
He whispered, “SkyGolf.”
Panic struck. He called Leo. “The login! It kicked me out! What’s the password?” His armchair was gone
For the next hour, he forgot about his aching knee. He forgot about the silence of his house. He played the most impossible round of his life. He drove a ball through the eye of a cyclone over the Pacific. He chipped off the edge of a thunderhead. He putted on a green made of polished starlight.