"I want to know!" she demanded, kicking her feet beneath the covers. I knew that she would not drop the subject until I answered, or at least played along with her for a while, so begrudgingly, I responded.
"I think that when you die then that's the end. That there's nothing left, and that whenever you feel like there might be something else out there, you're just tricking yourself into accepting that there is an end to everything, and no one wants to accept that the end really is final."
"Why do you think that so many people believe in god, then?" She asked, and I rolled my eyes. It was a good thing that the room was dark and she didn't see me do it.
"It’s one of the great mysteries, isn't it? What do you think happens when we die, since you brought it up?"
"Glad you asked." I could feel her nod her head, as if she were a genie granting a wish. "I think that there has to be something else out there after we die, that we have to go on somehow. I don't know if we retain our consciousness or identity, really, but I do think that part of us still goes on."
"What, like people remembering us? That’s not the same." I countered, feeling a bit drawn into the argument and a bit cheated by her answer.