Three kilometers,I corrected in my head.When in Rome…
The farther I got from the tourist center of Rome, the more signs of life I saw. I passed an apartment building with balconies that were full of life: plants, laundry, even an old woman smoking her morning cigarette. Her eyes followed me down the street.
At the next intersection I saw a police officer. “Dove stai andando?” he asked me.
It was one of the few phrases I had learned in my week of cooking school. “Cibo,” I replied back. “Il mercato.”
Food. The market.
The officer pointed up the street and waved me on.
The walk was long, but I didn’t mind. It actually felt nice to get outside.Actuallyoutside, not just sitting on the balcony. It felt good to stretch my legs beyond just running on the treadmill, too. Back home, I had to walk three miles to get to the diner where I worked. I liked to walk.
Soon I came across two other masked pedestrians walking in the same direction. I slowed my pace so that I wouldn’t catch up to them. Then another person fell in behind me from a side street. They kept their distance, but I couldn’t help but wonder if any of them were infected. Was I breathing the same air as the people in front of me? I pictured them exhaling, breath droplets hanging in the air like smoke, waiting for me to walk through. Realizing that I was holding my breath, I tried to make myself relax. It didn’t work.
As I drew closer to the market, the street grew more crowded. Somehow the crowd made things feel normal again, and also eerily different. Nobody talked—we all walked along, silent except for our footsteps, like mice who were too afraid to make any noise.
The grocery store was calledDESPAR, which looked unnervingly like the English worddespair. There was a line of people waiting to get inside, with police officers patrolling the area to make sure everyone stayed two meters apart. Their presence was surprisingly calming for my nerves. After being isolated in the hotel, it was good to see that there were people in charge. Lines were a byproduct of civilization. The world might feel like it was ending, but at least it was anorderlyapocalypse.
The line moved slowly. I pulled out my phone to kill time.
Donovan: I’m here. There’s a long line, so I probably won’t be back for another hour.
Donovan: Don’t throw any parties while I’m gone.
Molly: Too late. I’m inviting all my friends over and we’re drinking ALL the liquor in the lounge.
Donovan: If there’s no booze when I get back, I’m making you eat vending machine chips for the rest of the week.
Molly: That’s not nice!
Donovan: Neither is drinking all the alcohol!
Molly: Fine. I promise not to drink all the booze.
Molly: Are you doing okay?
Donovan: I think so. It’s kind of surreal out here.
Molly: I bet. Be safe.
Molly: I’m thinking of you.
I’m thinking of you.My eyes scanned over the last text again and again. It was such a simple, straightforward statement of care and concern.
But it made me grin like an idiot while standing in line.
While I waited in line, I replayed the events from last night in my head. I thought I was so smooth, showing her how to use a pool cue as an excuse to get close to her. Oldest trick in the book, right? But rather than turn her into the awkward, nervous woman I expected, she leaned into it by leaning intome. Pushing that sweet ass against my crotch until my dick was wedged between her plump cheeks. Her dress was thin, so I felteverything. And I knew she felt everything from me.
Even now, a day later, my cock twitched just thinking about it. I had to quickly think about something else to keep from getting hard there in the line outside the store.
But one thing was certain: I needed to think of a way to get even.
When it was my turn to go inside, a grocery store employee used a laser thermometer to check my forehead temperature. I must have been fine because he waved me inside. Another employee wiped down a basket with a disinfectant cloth and handed it to me.
The thing about European grocery stores was that they were small. Back in America, our stores had wide aisles that could fit two or three carts across. That wasn’t the case in Rome. The aisles inDESPARwere so narrow that a single shopping cart blocked the path, and there weren’t big open walkways at the end of each aisle.
This may have been annoying in normal times, but it was debilitating during a pandemic. It was a challenge to stay two meters from everyone as I darted through the store, grabbing supplies. It was like a game of tag, except everyone was “it” and nobody wanted to win.