The human race

I knew my dad would have been proud of me, as I raced through our town. Timing the traffic lights perfectly and squealing the tires around every turn bore frantic evidence to the desperation of my charge. Was it a matter of life and death, with each passing second ticking away someone’s life? Was it the extreme anxiety of a million dollars hanging in the balance that drove me to such reckless speeds?  No, it was much more important than that. I was late for church.

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