Tuesday, December 8th, 2020

I do get the mushroom burger tonight. I may not be able to get another one for a while. A curfew may start tomorrow night. Or it may not. If it does, the word is that it will start at 5 PM. Or maybe 6. Possibly 7. The Coronavirus Cabinet has announced it. Members of the Supreme Court have said that it may be illegal. A contradictory law passed earlier this year. I take the bus from work down to the city square to get the burger. When I buzz for the next stop, a shabby-looking man across the aisle mumbles something at me that I don’t hear. I stop the podcast I’m listening to and take my earbuds off. He says it again. I tell him I don’t understand. He switches to English. “I need to go up the street to get Chanukah presents for my children. Will you come with me?” I’ve heard this line before. He’ll want money. I tell him that I have to head straight home. “Please, it will take a short time.” Sorry, I can’t. “It will only take ten minutes.” No. “Then can you help me with some money?” There it is. Sorry, no. I get off the bus and head to the burger joint more quickly than I otherwise might. I pass a lot of people sitting at the chess tables and in the clusters of chairs in the square. They all seem to be enjoying a last warm evening before the curfew starts. Or doesn’t.