Donning A Mask

The first time I’d worn a mask other than Halloween, was during the Covid-19 crisis. I needed groceries and the supermarkets had strict rules about entering without protection.

When I exited my car, I donned my mask, latex gloves, wiped down the wagon and entered the store. The supermarket was eerily empty, and the shelves were bare of toilet paper and rice.

I approached the cashier who was behind a protective shield and slid my credit card through the slot. Once approved, I packed my bags and left.

When I got behind the wheel, I removed my mask.

Fresh air.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

This Vast Never-Ending Emptiness

The open expanse frightened more than exhilarated him. He often dreamed of what it would be like for a snail, firmly enclosed inside the safety of its own home. Or for a prairie dog, living in the tight spaces of its underground burrow, surrounded on all sides by dirt.

He had heard of the concept of claustrophobia but could never imagine such a feeling. Maybe the confinement would oppress him in a similar manner to this vast never-ending emptiness. Doubtful. He almost welcomed being smashed underneath a boot.

Such is the life of a cockroach living in an airplane hangar.