god is dead (and how we know)

GOD IS DEAD (AND HOW WE KNOW)


The woman across the hall was the first to find Him. Usually, the loud knock of any baked goods called Him to his door. A moment there, oven mitts between hot glass and her palms, was all it ever took. And when the door would open, after a moment of standing there, their silence would spill out into the hall and rap lightly on each and every door till no one heard it. So when it happened, this passing away this way alone behind closed doors, only the cats that roamed the halls at night knew, and gathered at his door, pacing back and forth, pawing the slice of light there. When the firefighters arrived, the noise of their pounding and plying wood with axe blades drew a small crowd to their doorways. Once inside, standing by the body was hard. One of the men toed Him. The others, and I mean each one of them, looked upwards though not a one would mention it later when asked of what they saw. Instead, they ate cake, an entire pan, licking their fingers eagerly. The woman held it up for them till it was gone. Her burden relieved of her, she thanked the men, by squeezing their arms. Each one of them—and I mean the woman too--felt full, and looked down again, sucking the cake off their teeth behind their lips, until they felt nothing there.