Life in the Time of Coronavirus (Week 7)

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.

She. Needs. To. Hug. Her. Sons.
Comfort reading: Wind in the Willows.
Pulse oximeter arrives; she inhales sharply.
Another RCA colleague/hero has died.
C helpfully researching better sleep tips.
It’s overwhelming. For a moment.
Magazines no longer come too often.
“Control the intention; allow the unfolding.”
The sky knows a weepy day.
11:45 a.m. Heading back to bed.
Young love—yet another coronavirus casualty.
As hair lengthens; tempers shorten.
Let’s not repeat this, like, *ever.*
Making the bed, she covets unconsciousness.
Searching the news for nothing viral.
Waking to same same same same.
“It’s getting kinda old.” “What is?”
Developing a new definition of “summer.”
Resigned to Michigan’s definition of “spring.”
May Day! May Day! May Day!
Tulips are sole race spectators. Polite!
Bodhi flushed bunny and turkey. Conflicted!
“The virus is rewriting our imaginations.” [from New Yorker]
“What felt impossible has become thinkable.”
Only twelve hours till coffee again.
Hazel: “When the sickness is over…”
The days drag but weeks fly…
A lovely day for snakes, sadly.
Fortunately, also for humans. Not sadly.
Her sons: possibly better off unemployed?
Wishful thinking is my new hobby.
Another zoom party; Dad turns 89.
Sister happiness tip: Make, meet, move.