The scene

The golf course had already filled up with carts and players before the sun heated up. Dawn was dragging her steps on the last leg of her daily brisk walk along the outskirts of the golf course. It was a humid Saturday morning, late Spring, and she was already drenched in big fat sweat stains. They felt like ill-formed targets for the self-hatred she’d always had towards her block of lard body. Lately though she’d been turning her anger into motivation to exercise; however she could do without the smell of pollens, especially from the scarlet bottlebrush. The sound of her labouring breaths drew the attention of other walkers on the path. Just before they could work out where the wheezing noise was coming from, they saw Dawn’s legs turning into jelly, then heard a loud thud…