There are mornings when I open my eyes and for a moment it feels like a different sun has risen in the sky. It gleams behind the determinedly drawn curtains of my room. If I lie very still, it’ll still be there. How wonderful it is, a new sun shining upon a world struck with disease.
I tread carefully those days, trying very hard not to upset the new scheme of things. We have a new sun, everything is OKAY, do you know how rarely such miracles happen in real life? Very rarely it turns out, because just then, the doorbell screams an abuse and it’s my cue to wake up. The real world, with its sad, sick sun waiting to melt everyone except the virus, awaits.
Physically, I am here. In September. Working from home, working all the time. Mentally, I am in March, standing outside my office, waiting for an Uber to take me home.
I can visualise it, the office building. I can see…
