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 |  This book contains prose writings and poetry for various contests here on WDC. |
| Things were definitely getting tough. Rosa pulled a ski mask over her head, before opening the front door. "Glen, tell Mom that I went to the bank to withdraw some money." "You don't need money. Use your card," he said looking at the multi-coloured ski mask and trying not to laugh. He was right. Money was just one more way to pass germs around. She nodded accepting his advise, then slid on her bright yellow cleaning gloves. As she made her way to the car, she could hear his laughter behind her. She probably did look a sight, but she wanted to make sure people saw her and stayed out of her way. Wearing this getup would definitely keep others a good six feet away. They would think her crazy, but at least she'd have half a chance protecting herself from the virus. Earlier that morning she had sat down with Glen and her mother to devise a plan for the day. A shopping list of vital items. Mom had elected Rosa to go as Glen was too eager to get junk food. He also refused to wear a mask or any protection what so ever. "You'll not put this family at risk running around without proper protection." He had groaned and muttered something about feeling a little crazy cooped up. Mom had given him the job of cleaning out the garage. That had shut him up, especially when she offered to pay him for his trouble. Rosa had been content to stay home, but her need to people watch was beginning to chaff and she had volunteered to shop. Out beyond the confines of their house, she found deserted streets, but parking lots packed with cars. She found line ups outside grocery stores that looked like the ones on boxing day for the big box and electronics stores. The only difference was that each person or couple stood six feet apart and only shifted when the line moved forward. Rosa joined one such line and found it moved slowly, but steadily forward. The trip that would normally take an hour tops, doubled in time and seemed fraught with concern and worry. Most people followed the markers on the floor that guided the flow, but still others, often without masks, thumbed their noses at the required constraints. These people earned dark looks and some even had harsh words fired at them like poison darts. Rosa's smiles were buried within her gear, hidden behind the layers of fabric that looked almost menacing, if not for the vibrancy of its colours. Her ridiculous outfit, seemly so odd, seemed to bring a lightness to the others who passed her and she couldn't help feeling like she was spreading humour in the face of pessimistic tendencies. There was no toilet paper to be found. No hand sanitizer. And even the baking aisle seemed sparse. Rosa stuck to her list, knowing she would have to try another few places if she wanted to find all the items. One stop shopping was not the name of the game. By the time she made it home it was hours later and still she had no toilet paper or flour. They would have to make due until the stores restocked and others stopped stock-piling the basic items. "What do we do without toilet paper?" Glen had lamented when he had hovoured around while they cleaned off each item from the bags. "We'll just have to use a wash cloth and clean up in the sink," their mother told them. The look on Glen's face had Rosa laughing. He clearly did not like that idea. "You could always eat less fiber," she suggested just as he gave her the finger and stormed out of the room. "You'd best hide your laundry," her mother said as she began to put the items away, "he's bound to get you back by using one of your socks." Rosa snicked, but figured that was probably a good plan. A bored brother could be a crafty bugger... and a crappy bugger. Words = 759. Notes ▼    |
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