“Take that stupid mask off, Helen. I can’t hear a word you’re saying—and, besides, we’re inside the house and we haven’t been near anybody for six months.”
My wife of 52-years slipped her mask down just below her lower lip.
“The woman who delivers the mail,” she said. “and the FedEx and UPS drivers who deliver the groceries. They touch things.”
“True,” I said as my wife slipped her mask back above her nose. ”When did we last kiss?”
“Five years and three viruses ago," she said. “May 27, 2020.”
“Time flies,” I sighed.