12 x 12 in.
Four weeks into the pandemic quarantine, I’m watching a television show with my son. He’s 24 and works at a grocery store. Usually we’d sit next to each other on the couch. Today we’re seated outside on the deck, in chairs placed ten feet apart, the television placed precariously between us, with an extension cord running inside the house. In the show, one of the characters touches a stranger’s hand and I flinch. It takes me a moment to realize what’s wrong, and then to remember that touching wasn’t always risky. To remember that it used to be something I did without thinking. The last time I touched someone I don’t live with was on Thursday, March 6. I had lunch with a friend, and then we hugged as we said goodbye. Five days later, the WHO declared coronavirus a pandemic.
© Angela Amias