DAY 1

      Dare I go for my walk this morning? My spine feels up to it. Do I wear a mask? It's supposed to rain. Maybe it's raining now. It's five in the A.M. I've been up since 3:30. Sunrise in Shoreline is 7:58.
     I'm alert for the slightest pain or cough. What's the first symptom of Covid?
     Jim was tested a few days ago, but he received notice yesterday. He doesn't seem as --well, as "co-morbid" as the rest of us. With pre-existing conditions, I should probably self-quarantine as well, but a walk in the civil twilight ought to be okay.
     Do I wear a sign around my neck? "Unclean!" …Tie a broom down my back to erase my footsteps.

     Later, everyone wants to avoid the kitchen, but how can we? Amidst the junk downstairs, I prepare a place for us to eat. But this doesn't solve the problem of cooking. Luckily, a close friend of Bat's has donated some top-notch cleaning supplies.
     That'll come in handy.

     Later still, Bat is cooking Caribbean Jerk-seasoned squash; I'm pre-washing what dishes I can manage. Jim enters the dining area to repeat his story about testing positive. Brandon does his level best to keep the situation calm but Jim only interrupts. Again, Bat tells him that we're "immuno-compromised," which is inaccurate but metaphorically true. Brandon's explaining that it'd be best if Jim returned to his room. Yes, he's s making us nervous right now, and I say so. But Jim isn't having it. He calls us paranoid, repeatedly. Paranoid.
     "Alright, Fuck You!" I explain, confronting Jim, who pushes me back. We fight, as much as two old men can fight. "I'll slit your throat!" "I'll kill you first!"
     Yes, it goes like that. Sudden violence. I could've just kept my mouth shut. "Get the fuck off me." "OK, let go!" We disengage, I go downstairs. Jim attacks Brandon. Freakin' hell, why??
     Police arrive. We give statements. Jim is cuffed and led away after officers arrange a safe quarantine spot for him. I calm down outside. The chairs are wet but I don't mind.