I now understand why Jude suggested I wear a cap. The bright lights hurt my eyes. So do the sorrowing stares of the clusters of people around me. I lower the bill as I huddle closer against Jude’s side.
Our shoes squeak along the glossy white floor, disturbing the eerie feel lingering in the air. The staff passes us, talking in a language I can’t understand. It’s bedlam, but there’s also a stroke of stillness. It’s a feeling I can’t quite explain.
I follow Jude, who seems to know where he’s going. I dare say, just like the graveyard, he’s been here many times before. We go by countless windows, but the curtains are drawn and the doors sealed tight, so I can’t look inside. But the smell, that antiseptic tang, is a vivid reminder of where we are.
As we round a corner, Jude pushes open a d
