Notes on the Grippe

Being an accounting of the recent and continuing pandemic and its various circumstances, from the perspective of an inhabitant of the regions lately called the Lost Quarter. Dates unknown.

Day Seventy Two

My love has returned to her office. When the quarantine laws came into effect I thought this would be a happy occasion, that we would feel relief at its coming and the end of lockdown and the fear and doubt that pursued us. Yet that is not quite the case. We have not conquered the dread lord, though we have turned aside his first assault. More will come, but we will hopefully be better prepared when they come.

We have grown used to days spent together at home, both of us busy at work, but without all the attendant stresses and distractions that seem to come from being in the office. It is a strange thing in that I don’t think either of us was aware of those stresses until they were absent. They were just a part of daily life, not even worthy of our attention.

She returns to a tower as sparsely populated as the hinterlands of the Lost Quarter. What purpose can there be in her being there, I find myself wondering, when she cannot meet with anyone and must scurry through the hallways trying not to come into contact with anyone.

By contrast, I must remain at home for the foreseeable future where I can still keep up with my correspondences. Will I enjoy it as much with my love absent? I think not.

It is a haphazard, lurching step into an uncertain future. And yet we must, for life persists with all its sorrows and joys. The dread lord cannot stop it entirely, no matter how many of us he may strike. We will just need to find ways to live within his shadows now that our defences have held. Further attacks are coming and we must prepare for those as best we can while allowing ourselves to resume our previous regimens.

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