Justin broke the hours of silence: “I’m going out...need anything?”
“... I wish.” Joana replied, with a ghostly stare, immovable from her crevice on the couch.
Justin stepped outside and the sun struck his skin like a gong. The day was that Colorado combination of blindly bright and icey cold, a day where you long for vitamin D while also wishing you were wearing more layers.
The walk to the corner store was two blocks. He looked down 12th Avenue and found the point where it disappeared in the distance. He thought about those Navy men who spent too long on a submarine and became nearsighted.
Justin passed many trees and houses. Despite the quarantine, spring had endured and the leaves pushed their way through the wood of the branches. “How does wood become leaves?” He asked out loud. He looked up and saw a mother and toddler staring at him as he talked to the tree.
Justin stopped at the glass entrance of the corner store. A distraught man hurried towards from inside, shouting something Justin didn't make out with his headphones on. The man pushed through the glass door and became audible: “Capacity! Back up! Six feet! We are AT CAPACITY!” Justin suddenly Justin realized that the rest of the world was operating at time and a half, and he was lagging behind in his response. Disoriented by the first strong emotion he has encountered in days, it took Justin some time to find the place where he was allowed to stand without being yelled at. He shuffled to the left, but the man kept screaming, he shuffled to the right, then a little back. Finally, he was in the right place on the corner. He waited for someone else to come out, so he could go in.
Justin had a minute to prepare himself outside, so when he was permitted to enter, he managed a very appropriate and polite head nod to the man behind the counter, then he walked down one of the isles of food, like a normal human would in a corner store. Human interaction: successful. Things were going well for Justin.
And then—the bread. There were at least six different types of bread and they all seemed to contain twelve nondescript slices of floppy bread. To the left of the bread were various containers of peanut butter and jam and Jiffy Puff, all with different color lids, and the line of items stretched out so far that he couldn't identify everything from where he was standing. Things were much more complicated here than back home.
Right as things were getting overwhelming, a person came. A person came and Justin never got a good look at them. They were grazing closer and closer to his place, Justin could see their black coat from the corner of his eye. He could hear their movements. Without much time to think, Justin opted to hold very, very still, and see what would happen. Perhaps if he was supposed to move, someone would yell at him. The arm attached to the person extended in front of him, coming in too close like a strange snake that senses movement. It reached across and grabbed a loaf of bread. “SHOULD I MOVE?” Justin said very loudly. His habit of speaking his thoughts to himself at home had gotten the best of him. He realized the folly of his choice so he tried to hold even more still until everything went away.
Justin felt eyes on him from all five of the people allowed inside. He stared at the breads, motionless. A voice said “Ugggghhhh it’s cool, I’ve got the bread, so. I guess you can stay there.”
In the next moments Justin was busting out of that building like a hurricane, swinging open the glass door, dodging people on the sidewalk, and powering back towards the house. Once in the open air, he was free again. His face turned red as blood rushed everywhere in his body. His mouth turned dry and his legs burned from the pace of his walk. He crossed the street without looking both ways, ran up the steps and through the door in one swoop, and he was back in the living room.
“I can’t go back out there!” He said to Joana, still burrowed in the crevice of the couch.
“It’s fine, man, just make sure you use some hand sanitizer.”
©2020 by Shelsea Ochoa. All rights reserved.