By Arpan Ghosh
We’d never seen eye to eye. His thoughts on faith bored me, and my relentless cynicism tested his resolve.
On his deathbed, he believed he was headed for salvation and I expected him to fade into nothing.
We were both surprised that summer night when he showed up on my porch, smelling of damp earth.
“Well,” I said, at last. “Care for a drink?”