The walls of her 600-square-foot apartment began to feel less like a sanctuary and more like a cage. Her routine became a lifeline against the rising tide of anxiety. Wake up at 7:00 AM. Make coffee. Sit at the small wooden desk. Stare at the screen. Walk five paces to the kitchen. Walk five paces back.
Suddenly, a dull roar began to echo from the street. Elena stood up and walked to the window. People were out on their balconies and leaning out of windows. They were cheering, clapping, and banging metal pots and pans with wooden spoons. It was the daily tribute to the frontline healthcare workers. Elena grabbed a stainless steel ladle and a frying pan and joined in. Looking across the way, she saw the elderly man vigorously clapping his hands, a wide smile on his face. Lockdown
Meeting her neighbor, whose name was Arthur, face-to-face was the true end of Elena's lockdown. They sat on his balcony, six feet apart, drinking tea and listening to the radio. The city was waking up below them, returning to its chaotic, beautiful self. They had both survived the quiet, and in doing so, had found a friendship forged in the spaces between the windows. The walls of her 600-square-foot apartment began to
But as the weeks stretched into months, the novelty dissolved into a thick, monotonous fog. Make coffee
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