Tossing his jacket onto the table, he sat down and sighed. He couldn’t believe it. Another pandemic. I’m 109, how many more events do I need to go through?
He was seven when the 1918 pandemic hit. Mask on. His mother’s constant reminder still played on repeat in his head, now more than usual.
A few days ago, the state issued a statewide lockdown. Essential travel only.
This morning, he snuck out of his apartment building, walking the same route as he had every day for 50 years to this normally-bustling-but-now-deserted boardwalk, looking over at the eerily quiet amusement park. He sighed again.