Roderick and David ran a smallish undertakers business. They barely made enough to live on. As Roderick joked, “The new doctor in town is not good for business.”
Then the coronavirus arrived. People were dying all over the place. Business was booming.
“At last we will be able to live it up a little,” said David lyrically. “A better quality wine! Cheeses! The finest cuts of meat! Homemade carrot cake all over the place!” Roderick and David were excellent cooks.
Bethany and Lawrence stayed at home to avoid catching (or spreading) the rampant virus. They had enough to survive on. Would one of them suddenly take ill? Had they already picked up the virus and as yet it hadn’t showed? Were they in fact virus-free? Was a virus-filled droplet sitting on the store-bought egg carton awaiting a victim?
The fear was in the waiting. Waiting. Waiting for something that may or may not happen.
And then Lawrence felt a slight tickle in the throat. Was this the virus? Would it get worse?
Bethany began to knit her fourth scarf in a week. She couldn’t concentrate for long enough to knit anything more complicated.
Peter reckoned he picked up the coronavirus from the telephone while he was speaking to his grandmother. She had the coronavirus and he talked to her on the landline. She always phoned on the landline even though he had his own phone.
And now he had caught the virus off the phone. His mother had said, “Don’t be silly. You can’t catch the virus by talking to grandma on the phone. Look at me! I phone grandma every morning and I’m perfectly well. Although I’ve had a slightly sore throat these last few days.”
At grandma’s funeral, Peter’s mother gave the coronavirus to every mourner she kissed – whether she had put droplets into their telephone receiver or not.