Love in the Time of Pandemic
I want to inhale you, smell your hair, rub my cheek against yours, hold you close and dance in the moonlight
I want to talk to you, tell you everything: the important stuff, the trivial stuff, the mind-blowing stuff, the boring stuff
I want to hold your hand, sit in silence, sip from the same glass, eat from the same plate, sleep in the same bed
Andy disassembled his weapon with lighting speed. He packed it away in the black backpack made specifically for a weapon of this sort. He bolted to the roof access door as fast as his little, chubby legs would carry him. He made his way through the condo/office building stairwell without being noticed just as he had done on his way up. Andy was good at his job. And for a nine-month-old baby, he was really good at it.