Dearest Movie-Lover,

In a thousand years, when archeologists dig up our crumbled cities, and break through the vaulted roofs of ancient movie theaters, they’ll confuse them for churches, and they won’t be far off. They’ll claim we gathered there to escape chaos, conflict, heatwaves, hopelessness, and they won’t be wrong. They’ll marvel at the worn velvet seats, and determine that we were devoted worshippers, sitting for hours at a time, and for the devout observers, sometimes multiple times in a day. They’ll carefully dust off the holy shrine of Twizzlers and Peanut M&Ms and transfer the intact concession display case to the Smithsonian, concluding the sacramental-butter-flavored-industrial-lubricant found with the popcorn-ceremonial-offering-dispenser is what ended up killing us before the robot army could.