I spent Sunday with friends I hadn’t seen in a month or more. We baked cookies, worked on a jigsaw puzzle, shared stories. The story sharing consists of someone talking about a personal experience that would have seemed unthinkable a month ago: a friend with a missing relative, a car left in the street, a family who had 8 loads of laundry because they couldn’t leave the house, running on the ice and fumbling for the whistle while witnessing somebody being abducted right there, right in front of them.
After each story, there is really nothing to say. It is horrible. We nod. We know. We continue the puzzle.
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