Page 83 of The Politician

He sprinkled some seasoning that he’d brought in little plastic zipper bags. “You knew we’d fish.”

“I came prepared. I don’t like fish, or much of anything, without some seasoning.”

“That’s a good philosophy of life. Never take anything without seasoning. Like people who are young, they have no seasoning, but as we grow older, we get that.”

“But the young hold the world’s hope and moral compass, Eli.”

“I thought the church ladies do that.”

“Oh, god, no. They are wizened, sure, but they have forgotten the absolute heaven of tasting some fruit for the first time, holding hands with a boy for the first time, sex…”

“Never thought of that. You’re very wizened.”

“And you are a tremendous prick,” he countered, grinning enough to show every one of his perfect teeth. “Just be glad I like pricks.”

“And assholes. You like pricks and assholes.”

“Of which you are both.”

Their time was waning, they both felt it, but Eli refused to let the ticking of the clock diminish his joy. For once, the time was meaningless, and that was possibly his greatest philosophical thought. Time in meaningless in the shadow of love.