The conversation was heading in an awkward direction, as conversations about religion and politics often do.

My mouth was ready to cast off a sentence, which might have amounted to “I’d rather see a church burn than spill a single drop of this-here coffee,” when I managed to reel it back inside.

A brief chortle, however, propelled me toward ephemeral damnation.

“Do you go to church?”

“No,” I had to admit. “And because I am a lapsed Catholic, I feel the need to verify just how much thought I’ve put into disbelieving.”

He waved me away, not wanting to waste his time with any of my religious meanderings.

It’s just that he KNEW and I didn’t.

And from here until the end of the session, he would bestow upon........

© The Saratogian