[ WP ] An atheist is having a debate with someone who , unknown to him , is actually Satan in human form .

“ After all the studies that were to search and prove and disprove… What do we have now? Nothing. How much closer did we get to having an idea of what God is like, scientifically speaking? ” 
 
 It was three in the morning. A frowsty bar on the outskirts of London was practically empty, save for three lonely figures: a bartender lurking somewhere in the background, a young man who was noisily, yet with a notable lack of enthusiasm, expounding on something, and the listener - me. 
 
 I frankly lost the count of how many times I visited humans. With all the wretchedness and derangement and lack of sense, there was something so hopelessly attractive in them - their emotions. Strong, intense, destructive - they would develop to degrees so dangerously high that even I would shiver. Something utterly unobtainable to me personally, it was a beautiful, mesmerizing sight. 
 
 “..wars. If God is real, how does he let people kill for the religion, when it was him who oh so fiercely prohibited murder? ” 
 
 I listened. And in between his unprotected words, I could see it all - all that radiated through his intoxicated glimpses. All the insecurities. The pitiful resentments that were held in for too long. The empty anger. The tireless desire to hide away. 
 
 And I saw her. I saw her very clearly, and she looked nothing short of perfect in his mind. I saw the car crash, too. Such a careless, stupid mistake. The call. And pain, a lot of immense, numb, emptying pain… It has been a year now. 
 
 Another thing intrigued me, though. I witnessed myriads of human souls before, yet never something of resemblance. I could see light - or, rather, a small, yet relentless sparkle. For the first time ever, I was not disgusted with a human being. His atheistic justifications that I already heard countless times, word-in-word, did not repel me. He was not obnoxious. Just lost. 
 
 He would have been a good fellow, this nineteen year old kid. Maybe he would become a pediatrician. Maybe he would have joined the tireless search for, and later discovered a cure to some human disease. Or a firefighter? Or maybe he would turn his powers to finding a way to end poverty. Books would have been written about him after his death. That is, if the death didn ’ t happen too early. My gaze has now turned upon several empty shot glasses next to him. I always found it peculiar how humans praised this weird substance for doing irreversible things to their health and, sometimes, lives. 
 
 His last words were ringing in my head as I quit the bar. It was four in the morning, starting to dawn. “ Gon na have a shitty morning.. ” Optimistic. Little do you know, my poor lost soul. 
 
 Next to the bar, I saw a single vehicle parked. Everything was all too clear. Barely having even looked at it, I continued moving. But something was atypical, something was out.. What is this quivering heavy sensation in the chest and at the corners of my eyes?!.. 
 
 Without fully realizing what I am doing, I returned to the vehicle and, finding some old nail on the street, poked the wheels, all four of them. Then, this time without looking back, walked away. Away from the bar, the vehicle, the humanity, all while trying to ignore this novel sensation.
