By Nathan Barton
You are driving around town, going about your daily business.
You are downtown: you promised the preacher you’d stop by to help him move some furniture in his office. But all the spaces around the building and in the parking lot are taken. So you finally find a space a block away. It’s only a couple of doors down from the Kitten Shop – which is NOT a pet store. You look at their black-coated windows and the enticing signs advertising XXX with disgust as you walk in the back door of the meeting house, where Joe Smith meets you. An hour later, now hurrying to get to the car before the meter expires, you drive off to your next stop. You see a police car just ahead of you, at the traffic light before you make your first turn off the street where you parked.