The Pandemic

One more day in the week.

I awoke at seven in the morning and gave the alarm clock a hard shake to get it to stop beeping. My body was asleep one moment and fully awake the next, as usual. The shower, the bedroom, the clothes I picked out yesterday and laid out thoughtfully on the couch for me to wear today. the same as it is each day. Still, though... My entire body felt disoriented. Every stride felt more effortful than normal, and a knot around my temples indicated that a headache was likely to arrive shortly.

As soon as my eyes opened, something seemed wrong with the world around me as well. The sound of traffic continued to reverberate from the big outdoors, and the apartment remained undoubtedly the same, yet the meal tasted bland and the discomfort persisted. The temptation of giving my supervisor a call to request a day off briefly seemed worthwhile. I had a normal body temperature, though. No runny nose, no cough. Just a little queasy feeling, too fleeting to be a valid explanation. Just a little feeling of bereavement.

While walking to the bus station, I looked around. It wasn't a particularly horrible weather. Even though the summer is almost over, the early September sun was brilliant and glossy today. The trees near the pavement were tall and lush, with a light breeze that hardly stirred their leaves. My typical route, which I refer to as the back of my hand. Then why wouldn't that odd feeling of wrongness stop haunting me?

I ran to the bus station and boarded it. scrutinized the faces of others. Were they to provide any hints? Did they feel the same worry I did?

No, not all of them. However, some appeared uneasy as they stole oblique glances at other people. Or was that merely a dream I had? Without a doubt. A few individuals were perplexed and appeared to gaze into other passengers' eyes for an excessive amount of time. None of them dared to inquire as to whether the others had the same discomfort.

I carried my grief with me to work. Everything was the same, including how my coworkers behaved. Hi, good morning, how are you today, and everything else? Nevertheless, the oddness persisted. We worked sporadically and kept our eyes on computer displays, but nobody seemed to be able to concentrate today.

Our team was impacted by the somber attitude that lingered over our desks, lingered in the conference rooms, and caused our hands to hesitate just above the keyboards. The supervisor gnawed at a pen while staring at a blank wall. My coworkers barely stirred from their painful seats and were somber. They merely routinely wiped perspiration from warm foreheads. Not the same joking around today.

That dulled feeling of being absent lingered in the back of my mind. The fallibility of my own reasoning. Despite not being able to solve the core of the issue, they looked for solutions. Unpleasant suspicion began to grow.

My gaze fell upon Donna, the ideal companion one could have. With a contemplative beckon, she turned away from her desk and noticed me.

"Donna!" How is your day's job going?

Odd. unable to do any tasks. Perhaps the issue is that it feels hotter in here than it usually does.

spoke with the people the day before? completed the transaction?

Indeed. Well, we finally reached an agreement on the terms.

Fantastic news! So, when does the agreement begin?

Donna parted her lips to respond, but nothing came out. She tried again, and her face twisted.

That's when my suspicion turned into a terror. The inaccuracy gathered about me. Still, I had to double check.

"Donna." I would want to ask you a question, please.

She gave a nod.

"What name do you go by?"

She gave me a deeply perplexed expression.

"Are you crazy now?" the worried expression on her face.

Just let me know. Please.

Donna pounded her chest with her palm.

"Donna." What more is there? How many years have you known me? Twenty? Twenty-two?

"No, that isn't the case." Not your name! What do you say when you want to say "myself"?

She just sat there, obviously unable to think. My heart fell. My head felt heavy from all the speculation. It felt even more terrifying.

"Have a feeling about what's not right today." We misplaced a letter.

Donna raised her eyebrows.

"From whom?"

"No!" Not the kind of letter that is. You know, the alphabet? One idea has been gone. Is it not apparent to you that there is a void where a letter should be?

Given that you inquired, There are a few. She had trouble putting her ideas into words.

There has to be another try.

"Donna, are you able to name every month in the year?"

Naturally, what's that got to do with anything? I looked at her expectantly. Alright. January, February, and March. March and... and... and... May?

Her voice grew quieter. She covered her lips with her hand.

What caused our symptoms to occur? An infection? Something poisonous of some kind? Why would any of us have forgotten a single alphabet letter? Furthermore, how could that letter be returned? My head was hurting so much right now, but the memory went above and beyond and included a hazy cliché. I remember seeing the elderly on TV a long time ago. A lighthearted film. Not a terrific one, but there must be a reason it was pulled at this time. That woman was crazy, yet there was a guy who loved her nonetheless. George Seagal was the man. What about the actress? Unable to recall. And there was a song. Which name was that?

Me.

By myself.

Furthermore...?

..