My My My My Corona

Lisa and I got our emails the same day. She read hers first. She made a small sighing sound, the faintest of protests. Then broke the news, with a scowl, “They’re moving classes online “temporarily.” I don’t want to talk about Corona any more - I want to scream about it. Maybe we’ll graduate, in three years, without knowing what most of our classmates look like - antithetical to “networking” at university. I’m lucky, I know - I’m only inconvenienced. I roam, safely, indoors, impatiently untouched by adult, real world concerns, like jobs and money. So I’ll keep my head up and smile like those glamorous, happy girls in tampon commercials.