I head to our front door, to go out into the world, to pick up something for work. Stephen follows to say goodbye.
"Got what you need?" he asks.
These weird days, when we go out so seldom. When every simple excursion feels like an event. Something you've got to plan for, dress up for, think about. It's been so long since going out into the world was a regular thing.
I pat my pocket to make it jingle.
"Got my keys."
Raise the crumpled bit of cloth in my hand.
"Got my mask."
Look at my sock feet.
"Don't got my shoes."