He turned his back on her, moved to the cashier's stand. He paid his check, left the restaurant and stood on the corner waiting for a cab. The night air had a thick softness and the smell of stale smoke from factories that had been busy in the day, and the smell of cheap whiskey and dead cigarettes and Philadelphia springtime.
Once he hadn't believed in hell. Once he hadn't believed in a personal demoniac deity. But he'd seen men possessed. He knew powers of evil flogged the earth and powers of good weren't strong enough to exorcise them. The powers of good, what had happened to them ? Where was heaven ?