Cruising along at 83 mph, Carl gave a bemused smile to the religious billboard, 5 of the ten commandments. He knew on his return trip he’d be treated to a view of the remaining Biblical directives. 1 hour to drive to the Hilliard/Rome exit, the same to drive back.

He’d always liked the commandments, a handy list, easy to review. There was a certain comfort in looking over these terribly important admonitions and restrictions and being able to honestly and forthrightly say, “Hey, at least I’m not breaking those 2.” He felt the same away about the 7 deadly sins. No one could accuse him of sloth.

The idiot on the radio finally shut up, making way for Steppenwolf. Carl’s bemused grin shifted to a wicked smile. 4 months he’d been making this trip, back and forth, knowing she’d be waiting for him, waiting to be wild, as they were both born to be. She’d be waiting in some frilly thing, and he’d pounce her, like a lion taking a gazelle. They’d be absolutely sinful, 6 ways to Sunday, then he’d go home.