Alternately: No "Do you ever wonder what happens to us when we die?" 

Rolling over to face her, I asked her what brought that subject up.
"I don't know, I was just wondering it. I was almost asleep when the thought just came to me: what happens when I die? That’s what I was thinking about."
"That’s a pretty heavy thing to be thinking about at four in the morning, don't you think? Is that what all strange girls do instead of counting sheep?" I was making a joke, and she knew it.
"Well, that. And we do complex physics equations when we're really stressed out in order to get our nerves settled. Who needs beer? I’ve got the advanced theories of Einstein contending with Schrödinger’s cat, playing cards in my head with the Mad Hatter and the March Hare!" 
"Good. Go to sleep, then." I said, making one last valiant effort at avoiding a conversation pertaining to the afterlife, because I knew that inevitably that conversation would lead to a conversation about god. Which it did, of course.