Sunday, May 17, 2020

A playing card lies face down at the start of the pedestrian path. I can’t resist flipping it over. It’s the Queen of Diamonds. If I were one to believe in random oracles, I might look up what it would mean. But I’m not, so I don’t. I wonder whether I might have exposed myself to the virus by touching the card’s smooth surface. There’s no way to know. I decide not to worry about it. Early in the afternoon, my boss announces that it’s 43 degrees outside. That’s about 110 Fahrenheit. “Aren’t you glad that we work indoors?” Right then, the building’s air conditioning shuts off. Again. It comes back on quickly. Our office has few windows. It doesn’t get hot. As usual, the afternoon prayers are in the hallway. Tall windows there look down on a central court. I lean against the glass to my right and almost burn my arm. I stand straighter during the rest of the prayers. My concentration also improves. I head home at seven. It isn’t oppressively hot by then. A man on a bicycle zigzags between houses on the pedestrian street, stuffing flyers behind door knobs or dropping them on the houses' front steps. I come up behind a large dog and a man. I stay two meters away. The dog keeps looking back at me. When they pause, I make a wide loop around them and continue walking. When I step into shadows, I can see their reflection in my glasses. The dog, at least, seems happier when I remain in view.