True of COVID-19 sufferers and of George Floyd. The key phrase at this moment in American history.
"I can't breathe, said Floyd as he was being suffocated. "I can't breathe" thought more than 100,000 victims as they were dying of Covid. "I can't breathe" chanted countless Americans in the streets, protesting enduring police brutality.
Long- or short-distance relationship between two people kept apart due to shelter-in-place constraints.
Their hot and heavy isolationship was getting weird, the limits of cyber romance coming clear. She lived three blocks away from him, they hadn't been able to see the other for two weeks, each of them trapped in their apartments.
An unproven, minimally-tested 'cure' for COVID-19 virus.
Touted by extreme fringe-dwelling figures, and by an American President who knows nothing more than what "people are saying", hydroxychloroquine may or may not have medicinal properties where coronavirus is present. It has, however, been shown to be lethal when taken as directed.
A common state of being in which a person's life is directed toward and extracted from their cellphone, to the exclusion of actual experience.
She's so cellphcentered she can't take a shower without the freakin' thing in her hand. From the shower, tripping down the stairs, getting honked at while crossing the street, eyes on her phone, she's like, having dinner with tonight's guy she met through her cellphone, covertly staring at the same cellphone in her lap as she swipes right on the next three guys and sends breakup texts to the last three. Ask her the color of tonight's date's eyes, I dare you.
A strenuous test of a couple's compatibility.
Forbidden to leave the house, they had shared every meal, slept, worked, read, watched videos and exercised side-by-side, hour after hour, every night and day for a very long time, and yet they were actually having a good time. She felt that if they survived this shelter-in-place-ionship they could survive anything.
A suddenly-normal person for whom the global Coronavirus scare feels like everyday life.
Observing the near-empty streets, theaters and gyms, seeing people all around him wearing masks, avoiding doorknobs, refusing to take the subway or eat in public, watching as nobody is shaking hands, the germaphobe felt that what he had known for years was finally sinking in.
The bomb. A tablespoon of Clorox mixed with hydroxychloroquine.
If drinking Hydroxycloroxquine meant she could go back to the nail salon, she'd have a double.