The room is no more than twenty feet square, with dull gray walls, the northern one with a wrong clock, the southern with a calendar hung to the wrong month, the east and west bare save for the two thin midline doors, neither with knobs, painted the same color as the walls. In each corner stands a man, dressed in a black coat and white shirt, and next to each man there is a table laden with notecards on which are written the secret memories of the other three men in the room. The clock strikes. A fierce wind blows open one door. The calendar turns to the right month and the cards go everywhere in the room. Secrets are suddenly in the air. Three of the men rush into the center of the room to claim the cards that belong on their table. They are screaming. Foam flecks their black coats. Each of the three men grabs at any card that contains a secret that he does not recognize. The fourth man, unconcerned, is dead.
©2021 Ben Greenman/Stupid Ideas
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