I don’t remember what we said. There were apologies and health reports and then there was that kiss.
I didn’t wait for Dan who looked like he was too nervous anyway.
I pulled him close, took off his mask—brazen woman that I am. And kissed him.
And I’ll do it again. I’m sure of it.
Here is the next chapter in my #pandemic #romance: Dan: What the doctor ordered. The symptoms may—or may not—be from covid-19. Dan is not only feeling lousy physically, though. He’s missing Jessica and his conscience is making him feel guilty and stupid. If that’s not enough, and it is, his dog and new cat are driving him crazy.…
Pulling up a chair to the dining room table, I hunker down to see if this computer can be saved. The brown goo is so thick around A it oozes around S when I press the key. When I hit S, it oozes out of D.
There doesn’t seem to be any way to open the laptop and clean the keyboard and you know what’s under the keyboard. The rest of the computer. I let fly a string of words I would never normally say on Mother’s Day—especially if my mother was here.
I deserve it. Jessica has ghosted me. For more than a week, Jessica hasn’t responded to a text, answered a call, called me back, or answered an email. Yup. I know I did wrong. I know she’s angry. Even without hearing it straight from her.
A paper cup of soda left last night on the coffee table has been overturned. When I realize it, I’m suddenly fully awake, holding my breath as I check my computer. Last thing I remember, I left it on and open.
I’m in trouble. That sticky stuff is all over it. Brown goo has pooled between the A and the S and all around the return key. When I type, the A, or rather the aaaaaaaaaaa, taunts me for being a stupid boy. Never leave root beer and a keyboard near each other when there’s a cat in the house.
I deserve it. Jessica has ghosted me. For more than a week, Jessica hasn’t responded to a text, answered a call, called me back, or answered an email. Yup. I know I did wrong. I know she’s angry. Even without hearing it straight from her.
