Last night, Elliott and I were drinking and smoking next to the firepit in his backyard, chatting and laughing while he played music. The air was clear, the moon fat and white in the sky, light shimmering in the clouds through the bare branches overhead.
There was a moment of quiet as we looked up into the universe. "You know why I believe in God?" he asked. I looked to him, my brow arched. "That."
I could feel the little half-grin trigger. "You know why I believe in math?" I replied as I looked back up at the swath of beauty in the Philadelphia sky. I could feel his silent question in his glance. I nodded at the same moon, the same clouds and branches with the same tranquil mien he wore. "That."
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