Once You Get Used to Quarantine, It’s Hard to Give It Up
At the end of a long cement hallway, a guard pulls the keyring from his belt and jabs a key into the iron lock. With a crank to the right, he steps aside and the cell door — at long last — swings open.
“It’s over,” he mutters with disinterest. “You’re free to go.”
My breath lodged in my throat, I steal a glance out the slit window of the lockup that’s held me captive for 14 surreal months. A tiny airplane crawls across the sky, and I can just make out the hiss of a nearby highway where free people are out living normal lives.
“No, thanks,” I say, tucking back into my book. “I’m good. But can you let me know when lunch is served?”