Day 8: Where I'm From

The bell chimed at night. After I had gone through the house and sprayed a bleach dilution over the door knobs, light switches, spigots, refrigerator handles, oven knobs, lamp switches, stair railings, cell phones, phone, keyboard, tv button, keys, and counters. Letting it disinfect as long as possible by letting it air dry over night.

I held my phone and tapped the screen. I was one of six recipients of the group text. I recognized the sender, an acquaintance from the Bangor-area. It was ominous:

Well, I guess I should tell you I'm positive

I froze before replying, asking how he was and how his wife, whom I also know, is. Just as I hit the blue arrow to send, a flurry of chimes.

A photo of a cat stretching in a window frame.
that I am absolutely adorable

Laughing emoji. "Haha"s.

I am stunned.

He texts me individually, asking if I am >insert angry emoji<?  Well, he is just so bored.

Sorry, I write back to the group. I'm not laughing. 
A moment later, I'm from NY.

I remind myself we are doing our best to cope and that is a premium on kindness right now.

I text him back. I reassure him that it's okay, refraining myself from adding a parting shot: Don't quit your day job.