Is there a heaven? he asked. I mean, when we die, do we go some place better? lit a cigarette. Cause I gotta tell you, after all this, you deserve something better. Don’t you?

Main Street was playing on the jukebox. The two men sat at the bar watching a baseball game. The older one did most of the listening; threw out a few words here and there. But, the young man kept talking, ordering shots of Hot Damn, and clapping when the Sox got a hit.

What I’m saying is, for all we have to endure here on earth, you’d think death, the after-life, would be comforting, he said to the old man. It should be a reward. A prize for getting through it all without killing someone, he took a drink from his Old Style can.

Well. I see that. And punishment if you violated the ten commandments, he laughed.

No. Not at all, the kid said. There is no hell.

Has to be. We’re born with this fear of it. This fear that if we don’t do good, then we go to hell. We burn forever with other sinners.

We’re not born with that. We’re taught that. In Sunday school. In church. On television. In books, the song Wichita Lineman came on. And, all I’m saying is maybe God wants all of us to be in one place. A paradise. A return to paradise. Where Adam and Eve started. With beautiful sunny days and lush fields to sit in and contemplate on life. A place where there’s only love.

You just made that story up. There ain’t no place like that.

Top of the sixth. Sox lead the Indians 3-2.