Sunday, November 15th, 2020

Someone else is ordering when I walk into the burger joint. That’s good. I have time to grab a Hebrew menu and remind myself how to say “mushroom burger.” When the customer before me is done, I tell them what I want, in Hebrew this time. I’ve pre-loaded everything that I would have to say into my memory. I have to ask the cashier to repeat himself on a couple of things. He’s drowned out by Hall and Oates blasting overhead. I stand outside while I wait. After a few moments, a worker calls to me and asks if I’d like the regular bun or the vegan bun. He asks it in English. Either he knows me from before, or my accent is that obvious. I step back outside. Apparently the rules against eating outside at restaurants are honored loosely. There are no chairs on the patio, but a few tall tables remain, rooted into the ground. They aren’t moving anywhere. While stuff had been stacked on them before, they’re clear now. Three men are standing at them, talking and eating. Their take-out orders have only traveled a couple of meters from the counter. A family sits cross-legged with their dog on the astroturf at the pizza shop next door, eating their own burgers and fries. My order is ready quickly. I head out of the shop. I’m wearing a baseball cap and a rain jacket. I had heard a thunderstorm when I woke up this morning, though the rain stopped by the time I got outside. It’s too warm now with this jacket, and the cap gets in the way of my glasses when I try to wear them along with my earbuds and mask. I regret wearing them. I wander home, listening to podcasts. Right when I get inside and close the door, the rain starts up again.