Most importantly, many thanks to my wife for always pushing me and giving me true (sometimes harsh) feedback on my work. And my thanks to Sisley for giving this a first look and for the positive feedback. I hope you enjoy this short story. Additionally, thank you to the public servants who make sure we have the things we may take for granted. This story was inspired by a true person who is weathering the storm we face.

Like most days, I bounced up a small set of steps onto Ms.  DeWitt’s porch and placed a handful of letters into the basket next to the front door. I heard Rosco barking inside and noticed the silver Toyota Camry in the driveway. Helen must be home, I thought, most people are home with everything that’s developed, recently. 

I still remember that first day as a new professional, 32 years ago, I stood at the front of the classroom – boys and girls staring at me like I was an authority figure. Little did they know I was a 23 year old scared to death. I loved everything about teaching, and I did so for 14 years. I loved the freedom to inspire and the sound chalk makes when it smacks into the blackboard. Most importantly, I loved the look on a child’s face when I was able to connect with them and inspire them to learn. Unfortunately, the burden of teaching to standardized tests wore me down, and the system eventually put a halt to that inspiration I delivered, enthusiastically. 

I loved my community. I grew up in this small town, and I loved working here. After teaching, I turned to the U.S. Postal Service; that’s where I’ve spent the last 18 years – time flies.  

Walking my route, which under normal circumstances I interacted with folks consistently, I noticed how empty the streets had become. I witnessed only one car; Ed Wallace, one of the local police officers, passed me slowly and waved as I left Ms. DeWitt’s home. I’ve known Ed since childhood.

Entering Salvatore’s Pizza later on my route, I saw Geno, Salvatore’s son. Geno basically ran the business; Salvatore groomed him as successor. Sal’s made the best pizza in town, but I’d venture to say, they make the best pizza in the county. I noticed the floor shining from the lights overhead. No customers were coming; typically folks waited for a table during the lunch rush – the floor overrun with prints and scuffs from work boots by the time I arrived with the mail. 

“Geno, how ya holding up?”

“Tough times, only one server and a cook today,” Geno answered in his slight Italian accent – though nothing like Sal’s. 

“It’ll go back to normal soon,” I reassured him.

“I hope so, I’m going without pay to keep these folks on.”

I smiled and nodded; he slapped my shoulder, like always.

I washed my hands before departing, using the restroom by the front door. “Happy birthday, to you,” I finished before rinsing. 

A residential block finished my route; 28 houses to be exact. The agency issued hand sanitizer for these situations, when you couldn’t wash your hands with soap and water. I doused them every few homes, especially after contacting someone or touching  a railing. I tried to use hand sanitizer 10-15 times each day.

As I approached my final delivery I ran into Bruce Winthrope, and he extended his hand to shake mine. I didn’t reciprocate, and he chuckled, pulling his hand back. I asked myself afterwards if I was acting strangely because of everything going on – or was this just proper precaution? 

“Strange times, Bruce”

“I hear that,” he said laughing. “It’s craziness.”

I removed his bundle of mail from my bag and handed it to him. 

“Take care of yourself, and tell Maggie I say hello.”

“I will,” he said as we walk away from each other.

Making my way back to the Post Office I noticed a pesky cough continuing from earlier – my throat dried and scratchy. I clocked out and took my phone, calling my doctor.

“Dr. Weisberg, I’ve got this cough, and I’d…”

“Come by first thing tomorrow,” he said, cutting me off.

—-

Sitting on the chair next to the examination table the next morning, I replayed scenarios of what this would mean for my future. Dr. Weisberg entered the room and I stood.

“I’m glad you came straight away. Things are strange with this new virus wreaking havoc; it’s particularly dangerous for folks in your age group.” Dr. Weisberg then smiled, “luckily we can definitely say that the infection is bacterial, so no need to worry.”

Relieved, I blurt, “Thank, God.”

“You can continue to work, technically, but I think it’s important that folks your age self-isolate. We’re dealing with an epidemic, one we know far too little about.”

“How much risk is there in continuing to work?”

“Your job is not worth your life… Someone else can deliver the mail.”

—

That next morning I sat at the kitchen table drinking my coffee, black, like I do every morning. I doodled and toiled on my cartooning. 

I like making comics about current events. Maybe in my next life I’ll work for the local paper. 

As I glanced up from my drawing I noticed a picture of my wife, we’re on our honeymoon some many years ago. 

I missed her so much in that moment.

Just then I remembered the time and stood to grab my work jacket. I stopped at the door and closed my eyes, picturing that sweet smile once more before I left. 

“I love you, Janie.”

Featured Photo Credit: Image by PublicDomainPictures from Pixabay