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The Pain of Private Pleasures

As they drove home, light from street lamps and store signs flickered across the dashboard and over their faces. Susan Hyde, slight, with pale red hair, sat across from her husband, Brad, an associate pastor of Calvary Assembly of God in Regina, Saskatchewan. [In this true story, names and some identifying details have been changed.] They were returning from a birthday party for one of the women of the church, another activity in another hurried week.

"We should go to the new Pizza Hut," Brad said. Now? thought Susan. Brad had mentioned he wanted to try it out, but she was stuffed from the party, and she didn't think Brad needed more to eat. "We can't. We're paying a babysitter. We need to get home."

"No, let's go to Pizza Hut."

Susan didn't get it. It was already past ten. But she was in no mood for one of their fights. Maybe he just wanted to be alone together. That would be nice, she thought.

Inside the restaurant, the smell of fresh upholstery and newly-laid carpet hit Susan before her ...

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