by Jeff Thomson
He knew that was foolish, of course. Simple math told him there had to be other people somewhere. He didn’t need statistical probability or actuarial tables, or anything other than his own mind to tell him so. But numbers had no life, no animus, no soul. They were just numbers, just figures on an imaginary piece of paper in his head. This was real. He smiled at her. He smiled at Bill. Hell, he was ready to smile at the whole goddamned world.
Molly turned to him and smiled back. “Please don’t take this the wrong way,” she said, and then to his great delight, pulled him into the best hug he’d ever had. And then she also hugged Bill, of course, but Jonesy took heart and pride, and just the slightest erotic thrill in the knowledge that she hugged him first.
“What was that for?” he asked, looking the gift horse firmly in the mouth. He wanted to kiss her, but that would have been going a bit too far. He could dream, though, couldn’t he?
“We have a purpose,” she said, stepping away from Bill. Jonesy thought this may have been the first time he’d ever seen his friend flustered. He turned his attention back to Molly.
“We have each other,” she added, then pointed at the radio. “And we just got the thing we needed most.”
“Which is?” Jonesy asked.
“Hope.”
To be continued...
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