Standing six feet from the neighborhood pharmacy counter. Suppresses immediate urge to cough. Sweet Jesus, why now? Holy Mary, Mother of God, I’ll take back all the papalist jokes, I swear. 🤞 It’s always the most inopportune time!?
FFS, preserve me in this my hour of tribulation!
Minute capillary vessels begin to explode in the eyes, the neural circuitry sparks and sputters, the heart skips a beat, the cough scratches across the throat with all the menace of a serial killer stalking his prey… Heart and nerve and sinew begin to implode, the vacuum of an emergent singularity pulls at the fibers of your soul, a shudder ripples through your subatomic matrix threatening dissolution…
The prescription is shuffled across the counter. The card is shoved into the slot. You nod, tears forming. And slowly, with all the dignity you can muster, leave the premises.
And then your face explodes in an expectorating fit of ocular orb-bulging violence. And so it is, this tale of Coronatide and the newfound need to throttle involuntary reflexes like a thug in a dark alley.