May 2020
If walls could talk, these would scream.
There's something insane about this place. It walks a fuzzy line somewhere between abattoir and display counter.
These are dark days, and necromancy isn't quite dead.
For all the darkness, though, it's well lit.
Does the light stay on when the refrigerator is closed?
What if the whole room is the refrigerator?
Stainless steel has been the décor since before it was trendy. A dozen fridge doors, each 27 by 22, fill a wall. There's more just like it along other walls in other rooms. So what's special about this one?
Nothing at all. What's special are the refrigerated cargo containers taking up the entirety of the parking lot.
There's no room at the inn, and the stables are full, too, but unlike that fabled hotel about five miles from the Dead Sea, this is a place where not even Christ would stay.
Jesus wept, and Judas walks the streets coughing and sneezing and feeling fine. His thirty pieces of silver are really just the shiny doors of the morgue's cadaver cabinets, and his disciples do their own research.
If walls could talk, these would scream, because there's something insane about this place and these times.