Thursday, December 17th, 2020

As I head to bed, I see an odd shape in the middle of the kitchen floor. I look at it more closely. It’s a long slug, about five inches from antennae to tail, making a sharp left turn, heading back to the door. It’s moving relatively quickly. I don’t think I’d seen it there when I was in the kitchen a few minutes before. Before I turn out the light, I note where it is and where it’s going. I make sure that I avoid that area when I go from my bed to the bathroom during the night. I don’t want to step on it. In the morning, it’s gone. Good. When I head out to work it isn’t raining, but it starts when I’m halfway there. For lunch, the bosses order hummus plates. It’s another programmer’s birthday. On the bed of hummus, each has tahini, chickpeas, a sliced egg, paprika, and other substances that I don’t recognize. The pita is darker and denser than usual. It all is still warm when we get it. When I go into the kitchen later to get more coffee, add-ons for the hummus are still out on the counter: raw onion, garlic, olives, what looks like jalapenos, and what I think is chili paste. My boss points it out. He says it’s dessert. I think he’s kidding. After dark, we light the final night’s candles. The worker who does it isn’t sure of the melodies. We all sing them in unison, followed by the hymns with the now-familiar harmonies. The bosses hand out cookies again. People take pictures. After work, in the city square, I think of getting one last donut. The bakeries don’t have them anymore. I’m surprised. I get some pizza and a soda and eat it at a chess table. A man with a shaggy beard and a worn motorcycle jacket comes over. He wishes me a bon appetit, sits down with his back to me, and chats with his friends at the table next to ours. It starts to rain again as I finish eating. I’m under an canopy, so I have time to put everything together before I head out. I carefully step around more snails and slugs on the pedestrian street as I hurry home.