I blew my breath in my hands as I observed the cracking gravel. The traffic lights were flashing red, and I surveyed the street. The roads were empty, and I proceeded across the street, tucking my brittle hands into my coat's pockets.

I sat on the marble park bench and pulled down my mask. I took a breath and closed my eyes, listening to the emptiness of the park. Covid changed everything. This small town felt so large. A police officer drove by, and I ducked under the bench. "Damn," I whispered, "did they see me?"

"I wish they would stop sending me spam." I checked my texts, but nothing. The last text was Two months ago. I looked at my contacts. "7 people."