Life in the Time of Coronavirus (Week 4)

This is how four writers pass the time (and stay connected) during their isolation. We realize we’ve slipped a bit from stories into conversation in 6-word increments; we’re giving ourselves grace given the circumstance. Join us by adding your 6-word stories in the comments.

“What about a–“ “I ate that.”
Sold out: jigsaw puzzles and yeast.
Still biting my nails; tempting fate?
Fear makes our lives shrink, shrivel.
Lorna walks by, waves via text.
Friendship via text is not enough.
Somehow, I’m preoccupied with my hair.
Home cooking is survival, but boring.
I’m actually enjoying creative pantry exploitation.
You’re my idol. I eat crackers.
Meijers: she can’t stop him shopping.
Week three snowed in. No snow.
News flash: people are overusing bleach.
What’s that smell? Ohhh. It’s me.
Prime deliveries delayed: TP, detergent, pistachios.
I’m wearing actual shoes. Proud moment.
Discovered TikTok. Damn, people! You creative!
“Yum! I love a mud pie.”
“Rush hour”–walking in the street.
At three, Hazel knows social distance.
Hopefully, children will forget this era.
Who knew loneliness could save others?
Another colleague just taken off respirator.
Best at gazing at to-do lists.
Friends’ teens ditch screens for Monopoly.
Son, now furloughed, tries for sanguinity.
Lost power briefly. That would suck.
Power’s out. What could be next?
I find I quite like electricity.
Maundy Thursday and so much hate.
I miss being reckless about cleaning.
She lies to others, to herself.
Even lying, your honesty is admirable.
Puzzle arrived. Must I work today?
It depends. Is the puzzle work?
A puzzle is worse than work.
A puzzle takes over your life.
Zero interest. Entire world is puzzle.
Yesterday, six words were too many.
Some days it’s enough to sit.
And humor is a (frayed) lifeline.
Mood: The sky’s falling/not falling.
Sun is deceptive, wind spooky loud.
Getting little curls around my ears.
“Popcorn is dinner; don’t judge me.”
Someday will eat someone else’s cooking.
Week Four’s end, we fall silent.
Small moments of joy seem scarce.
Living in the moment feels eternal.
(Tomorrow may be better; still hopeful)
Minecraft world: she adopts a cat.
Found: some six word small joys:
A kiss is still a kiss.
New moss still feels like velvet.
Croissants in the freezer; oh, boy!
Why pay bills when time’s stopped?
Squirrel filches no-bakes, leaves rolls untouched.
She needs to see the lake.
About 750 pieces of 1,000 today.
“They are going through the unimaginable.”
Minecraft world: building a family compound.
One woman, 1,000 pieces, 44 hours.
Don’t let me start another one.
Lois, I am here for you.
Phones no longer verboten during meals.
Into week four, resigned but hopeful.
Son: “Careful or you’ll lose it.”
ALL CAPS IS NORMAL—HEALTHY!—RN