The cashier compliments me on how my mask matches my outfit. We talk about working masks into our wardrobes and daily lives.

The bottom half of their face is covered in a black mask with lacy detail. They're cute, I think. I wonder what the rest of their face is like. (It feels salacious to wonder.)

"Good luck with the apocalypse!" I say cheerily as I exit the store.

"Stay safe," reads the reader board outside a Sizzler.

I'm forgetting how to live in a city. My car feels unfamiliar. When I walk down the sidewalk, the bubble of my awareness is smaller. I almost forget to look both ways before crossing the street.