Seventy days in. Except for some quick trips to the drive-through at the bank or the pharmacy, I have barely been out. Every day listening, waiting. Now that things are opening, I’m feeling anxious. I’m not an anxious person. I’ve had a weird pressure on my chest for 70 days.

Each day I work to will it away. Each night it steals my sleep – some days more, some days less. It depends on my ability to tire myself out with not much to do.