The faster I go on the highway, the slower I feel I'm going. Brad still has his bruised copy of the King James Bible, in his back pocket everywhere he goes. "'And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.' Corinthians chapter thirteen, verse thirteen." He takes another drag from his cigarette, and squints the way he'd always seen them do in the movies. He lets out a jet of smoke and then he tells me he loves me the same way he orders breakfast. Brad's bare feet are in front of the passenger side view mirror, and his seat fully reclined. "I love you, too," I say. I'm not sure where it comes from, but I look at him, his crooked smile in the butterscotch sunlight, and realize it must be true.