Photo by A M on Unsplash

The smell of disinfectant seeps through my scarf as the grocery doors whir open. I immediately think of a million bus rides up and down the East Coast, when the fumes from whatever cleaner they’d spray onto the seats would always choke me into nausea by the second hour. I pull my scarf tighter around my face and wonder if the disinfectant could be worse for you than the virus it’s trying to kill. Then I swipe my phone open with a gloved hand. Almonds, Ice Cream. I’d tried…




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