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Living Under the Corvid-19 Lock Down

It is silent.  No cars are passing.   There is no music blaring, no loud mouths passing.  Silent.

Getting to the supermarket minutes after it opens, using the hand sanitiser, getting in, moving fast.  There is no broccoli, no American apples.  Some local cucumbers are being placed on the shelves.   There are patches of empty on shelves.  Not that bad, but noticable.

There is no hand sanitiser, there is toilet paper despite the panic buying where previously normal people were loading their carts with two dozen rolls. 

The fresh baked cookies are not there, the home made lasagne is not there.   Can’t hang around and search much, for the crowd will soon come in.

There are those with masks, those with bandannas tied over their faces.  Some with plastic gloves on their hands.

There is no traffic on the road, I can cross at a level gait.   No one is on the sidewalks.  Empty.

Back inside my prison.  

Binge watching shows which have gone off the air years ago.   Checking the news to find out if there is a cure and how many more people have succumbed.   As of this minute, there are 13 cases.  

Schools are closed, many businesses have closed,  and we wait. 

They say there is a useful drug developed in Cuba called Alfa-B which will be sent here along with 26 nurses. 

Meanwhile, we stay inside and wait.

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Written by jaylar

Wordsmith BuddySmarty PantsLoyal BuddyBookwormStory MakerYears Of MembershipContent Author

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