After a moment, he said, “You could be the president if you wanted to be.” “I don’t want to be the president.” I rested a sweaty arm on his shoulders. “I’m gonna be something better.” “Like God.” The old lady next door invited me and Kristian over sometimes. We went for the tea and biscuits while she read us passages from the Bible. So many “thou shalt nots” and pointed looks over her glasses. “Kind of like God,” I said, and after a moment of silence, a smile touched my lips. “But I’d rather be the devil.”
