It was The first summer of COVID
If a virus could see, it wouldn’t see well. Its eye would be smaller than a pinhole, and its vision would be fuzzy, impersonal. Our worlds had collapsed around us, folding everything down smaller and smaller. In August, the first beaches were opening (officially) again.
Vaccines were coming, protests were waxing, the sun was trying. With the end of summer looming, this was the window to reach for some kind of normal. But nothing was really the same.
“Damn it, we’re losing her.”
“Damn it, we’re losing him.”
“Damn it, we’re losing him.”
“Damn it, we’re losing her.”
“Damn it, we lost her.”
“Damn it, we’re losing them.”
