Hello, awesome readers!
It all started with a conversation. One that I didn’t quite feel I was part of. I was walking down the cereal aisle of my grocery store when I heard my name being called out. Turning towards the voice, I was suddenly accosted by an unfamiliar stream of enthusiasm.
“Mona! How are you? It’s been so long! Do you always shop here? I never run into you. Oh wait! Didn’t you move to Ontario? Are you back in Montreal?”
To be honest, I wasn’t so much focused on what this person was saying. I was trying to figure out who she was. Hidden behind a covid mask and wearing big, movie star-type sunglasses, I just couldn’t place her. And she was speaking so damn fast that I couldn’t get a word in the space between us, which was precisely six feet. I know this because there are social distancing lines EVERYWHERE and six feet has been etched into my brain forever. Don’t ask me how long an inch is or what a foot looks like but six feet? It is exactly from *here* to *here*.
And then the big defining moment came.
The one where she would realize that I was standing before her in dumb silence.
The crack in time that would be filled with an awkward silence. Or so I thought.
“Listen. I’m rushing but please promise me that you’ll call as soon as you can. I’d love to meet for drinks and catch up with you.”
My response? “You bet.”
Somehow, making a promise to this concealed face while I hid behind my own mask was a little too easy. Except that theoretically, I wasn’t lying. I have all intentions of calling her. As soon as I figure out who she is.
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