Peeled away to the bare core. Everything is inside and shrunken. All I see and hear and think is only what I touch. And taste has nothing to do with any of it. I’m tasteless.

What I mean is, I’m not ill but still this virus has me in its grip. The world is shut down to protect us all from each other and we’re all being stripped.

What’s at my core?

God help me if I find out. And so I turn in my living room, to this and that, anything I can touch.

It’s almost Christmas, thank God for that. I can online shop and feel my serotonin levels rise with each delivery text notification. And fall again to normal when I walk out in the rain to empty my recycling bin. I might look around for a moment and see how everything is grey and there are a lot of cars in this apartment complex and no people.

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