Being Loved

“If there is a God, He doesn’t love me.” Clark looked at the young man who was interrupting his thoughts. The boy appeared to be college-aged. His blonde hair stood straight up, thanks to a generous helping of wax or gel. Great, a talker. I was hoping for a quiet flight. And who starts a conversation like that? “I mean, I don’t mean to be rude. I’m just saying that’s how it seems to me,” the boy continued – apparently uncomfortable with silence in a conversation. “Well, the fact that you even expressed that statement shows that you have...

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