How do I look?

Gina stopped drying the breakfast dishes.

Jesus, Vic, you scared me.

That’s sort of the point.

Like we don’t have enough on our minds?

That’s sort of the point, too.

Take off that mask. You look silly.

It’s my protection.

That’s not the kind they wear.

It’s all I got.

That’s your good camouflage bandana you tie around your neck with your denim shirt when you go to the VFW to shoot pool.

I don’t know where to get the kind the cops and nurses have.

You’re wearing your hankie like a bank robber in a Clint Eastwood cowboy movie.

We can’t be too careful.

Gina folded the dish towel.

Vic pointed to the cloth.

Remember when we used paper towels?

We always used tea towels and dish rags when we were growing up.

Now we go out for groceries once a week. Next thing you know I’ll be using coffee filters to wipe my…

Vic!

We’re rationing even though we don’t admit it, do we?

I guess we are.

It’ll get worse.

Maybe not, Vic.

You see the guy looking at me in the park?

It’s a public park.

So why was he looking at me?

We walked by him.

He was too close.

C’mon, honey, he was a few feet away.

Not six feet. People aren’t taking this seriously enough. Ida smacked him if he talked to us.

That would have been smart, Vic, a nice punch in his mouth full of infection droplets.

Don’t split hairs, Gina. Enough is enough. People better keep away from me.

People kept away from you before the virus

Good.

You gonna take off the mask?

I might sleep in it.