The glove fits my hand like itself. Sweat glues the latex to my skin. Prefer it to the mask though. The mask rubs my own dead skin into my nose. I wonder if any of this will protect me.
Theresa’s out sick. You gotta wonder what she’s really got. If she’s got the coronavirus. Meanwhile here I am ringing up toilet paper with these customers exhaling into my face. Guess I’m essential. Here’s to 2020.
Bryan Vale is a writer based in the San Francisco Bay Area. He writes poetry, fiction, and (for some reason) technical documentation. Follow Bryan on Twitter: @bryanvalewriter