It'll only be for a few nights, they said. Just a few to get the papers sorted before you pass on to the sunny beaches of Heaven. Till then, they said, you'll be staying in comfortable accommodations—put up at a nice hotel, highly reviewed. So you arrived at The Hotel on Limbo.
You've now stayed for two nights, and a disquiet is growing within you. You can't put your finger on it. It's just that…everything's a little off.
For example, dining. There's meals, but you're at a cramped table with other guests, all of whom chew with open mouths, sending flecks of half-eaten food flying. The staff stand too close to you, and constantly ask if everything is to your liking. However, the food is always on that edge where it's unpleasant, but not unpleasant enough for you to send it back.
It's not just the food. The furnishings are oppressively crowded. You're always tripping over a bunched up rug, or bumping into the edge of a coffee table. The temperature is a notch too high, the water a notch too low. Due to the hotel being fully booked, you're forced to squeeze in and share a room with another guest—and they snore so loudly you can't sleep.
You thought your luck changed when you met Anna. You were drowning your sorrows at the narrow hotel bar when she walked in. She was stunning: luscious hair, bright eyes, a winning smile. She sat beside you, and laughed at all your jokes.
However, in her room, Anna looked different—perhaps due to lighting, but you're not exactly sure. Her hair was ratty, her smile was stretched, and there was an unsettling glint in her eyes. Even her voice, formerly so charming, had taken on a queer raspy edge. You somehow made excuses and fled to your room, where your roommate snored in machine-gun bursts. That night, you resolved to contact Heaven's Office and check out.
So, this morning you march up to the concierge and ask for the phone.
"A phone?" The concierge examines his desk before looking at you with bovine placidity. "My apologies, but