Page 146 of Johnny

He flops back on the bed.

…returning he rested…

His long upper body erases almost all the distance I managed to create between us. His hair isn’t

long, but I can feel the soft edges of it against my toes. I can feel the warmth of his head brushing up against my feet.

He stares up at the ceiling with wide, blue eyes.

…he engraved on a stone the whole story.

“I have this theory, you know?”

“What?” I ask sharply.

“About how we get here. About how we end up with the lives we have.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. What are you talking about?”

“I think it’s like… you’re given a choice, you know?” He tips his head back so his eyes can catch

mine. “Before you’re born. There’s some asshole in the ether directing soul traffic.”

I shake my head at him.

“Handing out destinies, you know?”

“God?” I ask. “You’re talking about God?”

“No. Not really God. Just… some asshole.”

It’s my turn to scrub my hands up and down my face. “I think you’ve lost your mind.”

“Anyway. This asshole’s job is to hand out destinies. But we get a choice too. Like… maybe in

some past life you did good things and you earned choices. Does that make sense?”

“No.”

“Or,” he says, ignoring me as he directs his gaze back up to the ceiling. “Or maybe you did

something bad and you get demerits. Or whatever. So when it comes time for your next life—”

“Hold up. What the fuck?”

“—you get limited options. Like… OK. Last life you were bad. You did bad things for bad

reasons. So the next life you have to start with more hardships.” He tips his head back and stares at

me again. “Or who knows, maybe if you really fuck up the asshole decides you’re not ready for

another hard life. Maybe that dude decides you need something cushy next time? A softer landing, so

to speak. Right? So like… maybe the people with the hard lives are really more evolved than the

people with the soft ones?”

He stops. Like I’m supposed to weigh in on that.