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... hitheater, I glanced back toward the stage.

From the looks on the congregation’s faces, they knew the subject of the conversation I was about to have. Sharon waved at me, giving me a reassuring smile that did wonders for my racing imagination; if she was happy about our little chat to come, it couldn’t be too bad... right? Sergeant Snips blew me a kiss from the far end of the stage, and I mimed catching it and shoving it into my top pocket.

Roger hadn’t slowed for my little momen ...

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“Suspected to have a mental illness, is this person really suitable for the track?”

“He doesn’t really love the sport, racing is just his way of venting his violent emotions.”

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