I turn out the light on the nightstand and roll onto my side to sleep.

“Raud, do you believe in souls?” Fleegle asks in the darkness.

“Yes. Do you?”

“I don’t know. Do I get one too or are they another one of those things only people get, like remotes? Do dogs have souls? Do I have a soul? Dogs definitely don’t get remotes.”

“I believe you do, and you’re probably more in touch with it than most people are theirs.”

“You can touch your soul? Can I carry it like a stick?”

“It’s with you whether you carry it or not.”

“Oh, like a run in with a skunk.”

“Some say you are your soul more so than your body, and the soul carries the body like you would a stick, and when you die it’s the same as dropping the stick and picking up a new one.”

“The new stick being a new body?”

“That would be reincarnation.”

“As a stick.” He’s quiet for a moment. I can feel him thinking in the darkness. “I wouldn’t want to be reincarnated as a stick, not after all the ones I’ve chewed up.”

“That would be your karma.”

“You mean my soul comes with a car? It better have a sunroof.”

“Goodnight, Fleegle.”

 

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