A thought had occurred as an inkling in his mind since fleeing Polson, and it kept growing until it was as big and illuminating as the nighttime moon. Why not? Why the fuck not? The world was going to hell. Water levels were rising. States were leaving the union. A war that had continued for his entire life was only getting worse. A drug crisis. Climate refugees crossing the country looking for a place to call home. And a whole raft of other shit. Why the fuck not? If not now, when? Maybe never. He got out of the car and met Foxy on her way back. “Hey, I told you not to peek, you perv.” “I didn’t peek.” “What is it? Is everything okay?” Her beauty caught in the moonlight made her appear like a marble statue. “Foxy.” Mickey Verona dropped to one knee on the gravel road before her, reaching up, he clasped her hand. “Oh boy,” she said.