He made his decision sultry July evening, a night soaked in humid innocence, that nothing on this cruel earth would ever deny his love again. Never before has any creature be so taken by the scent of temptation as he was to hers. It did not matter that she was a forsaken Indian princess of privelage from the Mudabi family, and he, a lowly pick-and-shovel man for the Persian railroad. Because they weren’t. She was a cafeteria lady at the elementary school in Dicksburg and he made wire twisties for the baggie company out on route 9. But it was “his” baggies that she wore everyday in the lunch line. It was closed for debate. He had already crossed the line.