I love you but I can’t see you right now even though you’re just inches away. A thin wall separates us like a bundling board separates a young couple. Yet, I am not interested in intimacy at this point, just a smile would be nice. My heart is a wave, washing ashore, trying to find something to hold on to. But the flat surface of the wall is like the sand, ungripping.

I lay my head against the cold dividing structure, listening for movement. My hand instinctively touches the wall, hoping to feel your presence like a metal detector feels a nickel.

“Are you there?” I whisper.
“I’m here,” you whisper back.

Your voice sounds sad, relinquished. I want to bore a hole through this barrier. Magic would come in handy now. My eyes could be flames, burning a path to you.

But I know the decrees only too well. They are sprinkled throughout the news like confetti at a parade. My life is a rule book, now, that I must follow to survive. Six feet. Six more feet. Isolation. Mask. Gloves.

“Just six more days,” I say.
“Yes,” You sigh.

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