If you died tonight, would you be saved?

Today,

as I was walking onto

the train platform,

I saw two

normal-looking middle-aged women.

I think I looked right at them.

(First mistake.)

One smiled and said, "Hi!"

Of course,

my reaction was what?

But my body

was still pushing forward

(inertia)

and before I knew it,

she was right there

and I was right there

and she put a pamphlet

in my hand

and said,

"If you died tonight, would you be saved?"

Of course,
my reaction was what?
But somehow I said,

"Thank you,"

and inertia

kept carrying me forward.

I got on the train,

and then I pulled it out of my pocket
and read it.

It was called

God Will Forgive You.

Most of the things in there

were things I believed,

more or less.

There was a picture

of the author.

She looked nice.

Right?

And it is nice,

in a way,

isn't it?

That people take time

making pamphlets.

That they think

regular people

on a train platform

are worth it.

They don't know

which people on that platform

have giant pamphlet-sized holes

in their souls,

so they give one

to everyone.

They didn't know

what I would do

with their message,

but they didn't care.

They didn't know

that I stared off into space

and said to myself,

If I died tonight,

would I be saved?

The man across from me

on the train

was wearing a cowboy hat

with two University of Utah pins

pinned right to the front.

He had a mustache,

and was reading a book.

I looked at him and thought,

I bet

he never has occasion

to be shaken

by women with pamphlets.

I slouched down into my seat,

leaned onto the wall of the train,

and wished that its gentle rock,

like a great, cavernous mother,

might lull me to sleep.