In the shadow of Covid

My roommate doesn’t sound too good. At all. And now I am wondering if I am safe. But then again, lately any slight cough, any hidden sneeze at the bus stop or at the store will cause all hackles to rise.

In this age of Covid, we have all learnt not to cough, or sneeze or clear our throat in public. It is a dangerous thing; like screaming”gun” in a movie theater. The results are the same; there’s going to be a stampede and you’re going to be left on the ground, a stain.

The sounds coming out of the throat of my roommate are not entirely new. I nursed somebody with Covid only five months ago. He says he’s okay and after asking him for the forth time this weekend, I resolved not to ask again.

But I don’t want to even think of the possibility.

See, he traveled out of the country recently and he’s been back about two weeks. But we all know that airports are the devil’s playground these days. If you are traveling for more than 12 hours one way, that’s a lot of Covid you’re going through.

In America, politics trumps common sense, so the people who should know better, the doctors and the technocrats at the Centers for Disease Control, have given in and said people don’t have to wear masks on planes or on any other kind of public transportation. So now, when we would be getting out of the nightmare, seems we’re going to go right back in.

If my roommate actually caught Covid, the implications are just bad. It would mean I’d have to self isolate. I’d probably get less pay, mortgage be damned, and my department at work, already strained to the limits because of people who’ve called in sick, would probably have to shut down as the bosses investigate to see if anyone caught Covid.

To God, I hope what I am hearing is just a sore throat. I am going to work with that assumption. Because the alternative is just unthinkable.