The Social Distance Dance

You’re walking.

They’re walking.

Probably for the same reasons: health, cabin fever, wondering if you’ll be allowed to leave the house in a few days. Or, for fun. To surface from the media soup and breath a little fresh air.

And as you approach each other on the winding path, you make quick, nervous eye contact. You head right, veering off the asphalt to the grass. So does the other person. Sometimes you get a cheery, apologetic hello. Sometimes a reproachful glance. Some mothers actually start shoeing their kids away from your direction.

The older the person, the wider the distance.

Even though you’re doing the same, it still feels personal. It’s not. You know it isn’t, not exactly.

But it sure is strange to feel like a leper.

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