[s1e5] Shomer -

The fluorescent lights of the funeral home hummed with a low, persistent buzz that felt like it was drilling into the back of Ari’s skull. He sat on a folding chair in the hallway, a well-worn book of Psalms in his lap. At twenty-two, Ari was the youngest member of the Chevra Kadisha , the burial society, and tonight he was the shomer —the watcher.

The clock on the wall ticked toward 3:00 AM. The silence of the building began to feel heavy, almost liquid. Ari’s mind drifted to his own life—the midterms he should be studying for, the girl who hadn't texted him back, the feeling that he was drifting through his twenties without a compass. [S1E5] Shomer

"It’s not about whether he can hear," his grandfather had replied, his eyes soft. "It’s about the fact that we refuse to let a person become an object. We guard their dignity when they can no longer guard it themselves." The fluorescent lights of the funeral home hummed

"Why do we do this?" Ari had asked his grandfather years ago. "He’s gone. He can't hear us." The clock on the wall ticked toward 3:00 AM