Another evening walking home from the pharmacy. Chilly. Rainy. She clutched a cheap umbrella in one hand. Red considered investing in a car, but didn't see the point in wasting money. A yellow beast on the horizon -- windshield wipers moving in a frantic dance back and forth, sped toward her. She held out a hand to flag it down, never a thought to who might be inside.
Red hadn't seen him for a while, and didn't really care. (Well, that was another lie. Bless me father for I have sinned.)
But that was the problem! She hadn't sinned in two weeks now and it was making her itch. Not horribly, but it was beginning to make every other man look a lot more attractive. The cab pulled up and she hopped inside without so much as a second thought ruffling a hand through her damp curles. "Thanks, Chip. Could you drop me off at home?"