You've been drivin' all night, your hands wet on the wheel. Last time you saw the sun, you were looking at the Atlantic. Got off with a warning in West Virginia. Had the last cuppa back in Louisville. That was about 2:30. Sure could use another shot of bitter truck-stop mud right about now. The last hour has been a blur of flat prairie giving way to those desolate Kaskaskia River swamps south of Carlyle Lake. It's 6:45, and the sky's getting light at your back. You pass Scott, O'Fallon, St. Clair Square. Gotta keep movin'. As the ring of bluff towns gives way to the Mississippi floodplain, you start your descent, your final approach. And there, in the distance, glowing in the golden light of dawn, is the most beautiful fucking thing you've ever seen in your life. St. Louis. Home.