The morning after I acquired my first disciple, Jude Oscar, baked beans for breakfast almost made me puke.
The gooey red texture reminded me of blood, and the beans made me think of maggots that feed on corpses.
I persevered, though, so as not to disappoint Mom, and finished my breakfast.
It was Saturday and I didn't feel like staying home. Alone in my room, the images of Jude's death would have played in my mind over and over again. Hanging out with my parents would have crushed me with guilt and shame over what I had done.
So I went out for a walk by the river side, hoping that some fresh air and physical activity would clear my mind. A healthy body makes s healthy mind - wasn't that the saying?
As I walked, I did indeed feel better. Somewhat.
I appreciated nature's scenery, the sunlight that traveled 150 million kilometers to warm my body, and the river that flowed on my left side.
"Jonas."
Then a voice called out to me out of nowhere. Although it was recognizable, the suddenness of it still startled me.
"Mary?"
I turned to look to the right, and there she was, walking beside me, keeping a distance of a single step.
"When did you get here?" I asked her.
"I've been walking next to you for a while. You didn't seem to notice."
A blatant lie to my perception, but my mind took it as the naked truth.
"I'm sorry."
"No need to apologize. I enjoyed walking with you."
Our conversation stopped there, but our feet continued.
After another kilometer or so, I finally asked her something I had been holding back. 'Curiosity killed the cat,' echoed in my mind, but I probably wasn't going to die here and now.
"Who are you?"
"I think you asked me that before already."
"But you did not answer."
"What does it matter?" she smiled.
"Isn't it… normal for me to be curious? Everything you've done… was impossible"
We walked forward a few more steps before Mary answered with a question that didn't seem to belong to the present.
"Do you believe in god?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"I just never did. My family isn't religious."
"I see." Another pause lingered in the air briefly, and she continued, "some people believe that god created the world, while others believe humans created god."
"That much I'm aware of, and I belong to the latter."
"If that is the case, isn't a god what humans want it to be?"
I recalled her answer to the same question I asked once in that ruined city she showed me: "Who do you want me to be?"
I pondered that for a minute, but couldn't dare to ask her directly.
Mary then stopped, turned to face the river, and asked me softly.
"Isn't this world beautiful?"
I stopped too. She was right. The scene was picturesque.
"I think it is."
"I wonder if god created something so beautiful."
"If anybody did it - or could do it - then yes, it could only be a god."
"How do you think someone who creates something so beautiful would look?"
The thought hung in the air like mist, impossible to grasp, impossible to ignore.
"Either it would be someone so beautiful, or formless in a way that we cannot picture."
"So," she turned to face me, "if something created god, then it would also be either something beautiful or formless."
I felt like I'd reached the dead end of a circle.