I’m sitting in a bakery, picking apart a donut and dunking pieces into a cup of coffee. My best friend, Jay, sits across the table.
“It’s good to see you,” he whispers, clutching a bouquet of chrysanthemums.
He smiles at me through teary eyes.
I try to smile back.
He sighs and looks around. I peer around the room. Everyone is wearing face masks—except for us. They stand motionless in their scrubs.
“I hate to see you like this,” he says.
I hear the bass of oxygen pumping.
A wave of dizziness takes over and the world goes dark again.