I don’t think we go anywhere, he said. Heaven. Hell. These places don’t exist. They were made up by people in order to keep them on their best behavior. But apparently, that hasn’t worked, the drunk said to the young man beside him. Everybody is out to get you. Catch you in the act.  Lying, cheating, killing, fornicating, these are all human acts. By and large, we’re a terrible species.

So you have no faith? he asked, swiveling on the leather barstool.

Sure, I do.

In what? Not God. That is obvious.

I have faith in my cat. His name is Ted. He comforts me on this long walk through life.

One day, he will die.

The old drunk took a sip of his beer. He rolled a cigarette on the wooden bar top with initials carved into it. Hearts with arrows in them. And the name, Ted. The drunk pointed to it. The young buck laughed.

See, he said. Ted will live forever. Like the David or Mona Lisa. He’ll always be there for me. He’s there for all of us.