She studied his face. Despite his charm, she sensed a streak of cruelty. He might seduce women, she thought, but if that failed he would rape them. His skin was weathered by outdoor living, and he had the red nose of a drinker. His clothes were costly but dirty. "I know who you are," she said. "Aren't you afraid you'll be punished for your sins?"
"If I believed that, I wouldn't have committed them. Are you afraid you'll burn in Hell?"
It was a question she normally sidestepped, but she felt that this dying outlaw deserved a true answer. "I believe that what I do becomes part of me," she said. "When I'm brave and strong, and care for children and the sick and the poor, I become a better person. And when I'm cruel, or cowardly, or tell lies, or get drunk, I turn into someone less worthy, and I can't respect myself. That's the divine retribution I believe in."
This afternoon I went to Starbucks. I don't go often because they're spendy and they've monopolized the coffee business and most of the time I just want black coffee. Part of our Thanksgiving tradition, though, is going to Mom's Target and Starbucks on Black Friday. This year we made it to Target but not to Starbucks, nor did we make it to Starbucks on Saturday, as we said we would on the way to the Deer Valley Goodwill. I have a gift card smoldering in my pocket so today, after buying spray paint and water marbles at JoAnn, I pulled up to the drive-thru at Starbucks. Usually I get some kind of blended iced vanilla chai thing. At the orderboard I was distracted by all the holiday drinks and opted for a white chocolate peppermint mocha, grande. One thing I will say for Starbucks: the employees are always uber-friendly. After ordering from the chirpy counterperson I pulled forward slightly, plugged in my ipod, and started a game of solitaire while listening to the White S...
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