There's an alley in town that's full of single-window shops, the kind where you browse their chalk-scrawled menu and make a purchase based on whatever they've noted down (depending on how rainy it's been, reading becomes deciphering the remaining lines and vague outlines of old words).
Today's shop sells old TVs and CRT computer monitors. Cables carpeted the floor in a thick layer of black, red and green all knotted and seemingly writhing though the staff move about like nothing is wrong. Some customers suspect them of being just as mechanical as their surroundings, that they are merely extensions of some greater electronic being that lives deeper beneath the ground-level window that acts as the counter for their business.
Their stock, the old screens, show the buyers the hopefully impossible. They are bought by those who want comfort against their current situation, as reminders that things can always get worse. Faces flicker among the static, mouths consumed by layers of scar-tissue warped beyond repair and eyes so wide they are on the verge of falling out entirely, rolling around in dazed agony against unseen tormentors.
Yes, they cost a pretty penny but the relief they give their buyers is priceless. How bad can your life be when these people (some of whom are startlingly familiar) are so clearly worse off than you? How fortunate you are that your face and the faces of your loved ones haven't appeared on the screens yet and how fervently you pray it stays that way.
Today's shop sells old TVs and CRT computer monitors. Cables carpeted the floor in a thick layer of black, red and green all knotted and seemingly writhing though the staff move about like nothing is wrong. Some customers suspect them of being just as mechanical as their surroundings, that they are merely extensions of some greater electronic being that lives deeper beneath the ground-level window that acts as the counter for their business.
Their stock, the old screens, show the buyers the hopefully impossible. They are bought by those who want comfort against their current situation, as reminders that things can always get worse. Faces flicker among the static, mouths consumed by layers of scar-tissue warped beyond repair and eyes so wide they are on the verge of falling out entirely, rolling around in dazed agony against unseen tormentors.
Yes, they cost a pretty penny but the relief they give their buyers is priceless. How bad can your life be when these people (some of whom are startlingly familiar) are so clearly worse off than you? How fortunate you are that your face and the faces of your loved ones haven't appeared on the screens yet and how fervently you pray it stays that way.
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