"I compost therefore I am, brother."
"The end is near," he warned me from under a bike helmet. "Are you prepared for that?" His name was Stephen and he was dressed like a Jehovah's Witnesses. "Like it or not, it's coming," he said, deliberately staring into my eyes. "Do you believe something bigger than yourself?"
"In worldly renown or physical stature?"
"I mean, do you- um, is, would you mind shutting the front of your robe while we talk?"
I stared at him for a long second, listening to the breeze whistle through the chimes and through my short hairs.
"Kimono," I corrected him. "I lost the belt. I think my housekeeper stole it."
"Alright, well, I have some literature that I'd like to share with you if you're interested." He pulled a pamphlet out of the front pocket of his button-down and held it in front of me.
"That's not literature," I laughed. "Trust me, I majored in it at college."
"It basically offers you some valuable information on how you can turn your life around right now and make it mean something." He told me about how he was a wayward investment banker for years, with piles of money and women he would roll around in regularly. But he didn't feel fulfilled. He still had holes in his life where order and meaning should have lived. "I found my answers in this pamphlet."
"Is this about Jesus Christ?" I asked skeptically.
"Close, it's about a man sacrificed on the crucifix of the electoral college. A man buried in a landslide of false presidential votes. A man who we went searching for after it was over and found the rubble shifted and his body ascended into legend."