Faith

Faith was about to cross Congress Street with an armload of overdue library books when she was run over by a divorce. There was no mistaking Chuck's cranberry BMW 325i idling at the light — except that Chuck was supposed to be in Hartford. The woman next him had enough blonde hair to stuff a pillow. The light changed and the BMW accelerated through the intersection. Chuck was crazy if he thought he could get away with hit and run. The blonde looked suddenly ill; she folded down in her seat like a Barbie doll in a microwave. Without thinking, Faith hurled the top book in her stack. Whump! It was the first time she had ever appreciated Stephen King's wordiness;