"I'd like to ask you something," he said.
"Shoot," she said.
"We've been sitting at this cafe for over an hour and I just wanted to know...you'll think this is silly."
"Silly is good, right?"
"Fine," he sighed, smiling. "Are you a god?"
"Yes. Is that all you wanted to ask?"
"Yes? You are a god?"
"Yes," she said. "I am."
"What kind of god are you?"
"I'm the god of Lost Things, at least to a point. I'm also the god of a couple of other things but they aren't relevant to this conversation."
"Lost Things?" he asked. "I lost my youth, can you give it back to me?"
"No."
"How about the woman who left me last month? Can you give her back?"
"What's wrong with you?"
"Maybe you should ask my ex. She seemed to know the answer to that question."
"Okay, look. You're youth wasn't lost, you spent it growing up. And you didn't lose the woman who left, she walked away. She's not lost, she's just gone."
"What can you find for me?"
"The three dollars you're looking for is in your sock drawer."
"No kidding," he muttered.
"No. No kidding, but I'm not here to do your bidding. I just stopped by to get a hot chocolate with whip."
"Do people worship you?"
"Worship is such an ugly word. Brings up pictures of people praying and kneeling and wearing necklaces with my name or imagine on them. So not really. Having said that, people constantly reach out to me when they can't find what they're looking for. I barely have a moments peace. You humans lose everything. Then you all call on to me to help you find what you're looking for. It's exhausting."
"I can imagine. I guess I ask you for help almost everyday."
"You do. Everyone does. It's as if you people can't hold on to a single thing."
"You look like a normal person," he said.
"And?"
"I was thinking long gown, or toga, crown, maybe wings, or a hammer like Thor's."
"Seriously?" she asked.
He nodded. I mean you'e wearing torn jeans and a t-shirt."
"You still knew I was a god."
"I did." he agreed. "You're giving off weird vibes that told me what you were."
"I love the hot chocolate from this place. It's perfect. Just the right amount of everything."
"Can you find the freedom we've lost."
"Negative. You should have held on to that yourselves. Besides, freedom isn't a physical thing, it's an idea, maybe a dream, or a lie, and no one can find those things."
"What are you called?"
"God. You all say, 'Oh god, where did I put that lotto ticket, Oh god where's the remote.'"
"I never thought of it that way. So you don't have a regular name?"
"Some of the other gods call me Judy."
"Why would anyone call you Judy?"
"Beats me. I don't answer to that name, so it doesn't do them any good to use it."
"This is confusing."
"I bet. But surely I'm not the first god you ever met, am."
"That I know of, yes."
"You probably just don't recognize the others. See that guy over there, the one reading a magazine."
"Yes."
"He's the god of the printed word. He comes by here quite often, since this is the last true newspaper stand left. They used to be everywhere. He loved that. He can't get the same thing in the Hall of Gods, so he comes here to read the latest."
"Hey, can you find America?"
"Can't find what doesn't exist. At least not the part you're looking for."
"Too bad."
"It is what it is."
"I guess," he said. "We're you ever human?"
"Not even for a second."
"You were born a god?"
"See, that's what you humans can't seem to understand. The gods and the rest of the stuff was never BORN. We always WERE. The Big Bang never happened. Everything was HERE. No bang. Everything was sleeping and just woke up. Or else we're currently in a video game and you and I are only sitting here because some player is manipulating us."
"Are you saying none of this is real?"
"That's exactly what I'm saying."
"I'm gonna go now," he said, suddenly standing. "Nice meeting you."
"You too and your sunglasses are in your friend's car. The one you were with on Saturday afternoon."
"Thanks."
"No problem."
"Have a good day," he said.
"Everyday's a good day when you're a god," she snickered. "Every single day."
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