A close encounter in a hospital ward brings the existence of God into question. By Billy Mann
It was the smell that got him. Nearly knocked him out. The mothball stench of the clergy. Not right for a stroke ward. Its source tried to make innocent conversation.
Keep your nerve, Billy. Don’t look up, lock him out. Peripheral vision spotted the hole in his navy-blue Shetland wool cardigan.
“Yes, it’s a Kindle. I have around 250 books on it.”
Steady on, Billy, you are opening the door. Stop now, or you’ll be sucked in.
He wanted to tell him that even though he didn’t believe in God, there was an argument for God’s existence he could live with.
It went like this:
- God is a concept.
- Concepts exist, therefore…
- God exists.
Instead he kept his head down in his Donna Leon and lost himself in thought about the women in Brunetti’s life – Paola, Elettra, Griffoni.