Boj's life formed a perfect Kuznet's Curve. He spiked immediately on meeting Golda, ascended neatly for a number of years, flatted out when the Great Hurt came and then dropped as dramatically as it once rose. The effect was what looked like a dome at the peak and a sharp, rounded drop to the bottom.
"My life looks like a U upside down," Bloj told Tret.
"Why did God give me such happiness and take it all away?" he continued.
"it is like someone dared God to test me," he concluded.
Tret did not believe in God or Fate or Destiny or Eternal Life. He believed in Tret, in Tret's comfort and power. Tret worshipped himself. He was a Tretian. He practiced Tretianity. In his faith, Tret was Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
"Where is your God when evil falls on you?" Tret spat at him.
"Where He is? He is where He is when all goes well, when all turns down, when all goes pffft," Boj rejoined, his lips framing his extended tongue on the last sound.
"Baby," Tret told him. "You are a baby."
"I am a child," Boj shot back. "I am a child at eighty. What is eighty to Someone who is eternal? For all you know, God is walking around Heaven, showing my baby-eighty pictures to the angels, saying, 'Aren't they cute at this age?'"
"No one can argue with a lack of rationality like that one," Tret told him.
"Coward," Boj told him. "You are full of yourself."
"It is too hot for me to tell you what fills you up, Old Man," Tret told him, and there they let things rest.