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 Eighty Four

It has been my habit, since my love has returned to work, to accompany her on her walk to the tower and then to return home to begin my own correspondences. It is a source of comfort to me for two reasons.

One, I get to enjoy her company in the morning before we both tend to our work. It is that companionship which we both have enjoyed so much during the quarantine and our isolation at home. That she is now going to her tower at least some of the time means the end of that time is at least on the horizon, and that we must seize whatever opportunities we can while they are still available. For soon enough I will be back at the academy and our mornings will be spent in a hurried rush in different directions.

The second reason is the walk home alone. It is a time for me to think of the day ahead, of things both important and not, or of nothing at all. I can observe the city rising from its slumber, people making their first tentative steps out upon the street. By the time I return home I am ready to begin my day.

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