"What does 'fucking' mean?" the young girl asked from the backseat. The driver turned down the music that had presented the questionable word. "You, um, you don't need to know that."

"But what is it?" She sounded innocent.

"It's, well, it means to have sex with, or like, to do sex to someone, I guess?"

"Oh." She did not sound enlightened. "What's sex?"

The driver ran a hand through his hair. "Um, how old are you, kid?"

"I'm six."

"That's not old enough to know about sex."

"I know lots of things. I know that fuck is a bad word and I shouldn't say it."

"Damn straight, kid. You shouldn't hear it, either. I'm gonna change the music." He fiddled with the radio.

"That's also a bad word."

"What?"

"Damn is a bad word."

"Oh. Well, it's not as bad as fu—ehh, as the f-word."

"Yeah, some words are bad, and some words are really bad."

"Oh, thank God, we're here." He pulled into an empty lot behind a warehouse spotted with spraypaint and broken windows. "All right, so I'm going to call your daddy, and once he gives me the money, you can go home. Okay?"

She shrugged. "Okay."