Kelsey has been texting me all morning. Everything feels so confusing, but I’m still a little excited to see her name pop up on my phone. She’s complaining that she couldn’t sleep, that there was a bird outside her window that kept her awake. I miss birds. I wish a bird would wake me up instead of someone in a hazmat suit sticking a thermometer in my mouth or a blood pressure cuff on my arm.

Then she complains that the diner she goes to for breakfast is crowded and she has to wait for a table. The pepper pieces in her omelet are too big. I realize I miss crowds, diners, ordering food off a menu.

I tell her I’m sorry about her morning, and she tells me it’s okay, she’s just stressed. Her flight was an hour late leaving and it really threw things off for her.

She doesn’t say if she’s seen my #quaranteen post. Not that it matters if she sees it. It’s no secret that Flora and I are roommates. Kelsey herself even made the joke about being jealous. But I still feel a niggling sense of guilt. Maybe because when I took the picture, Kelsey was the furthest thing from my mind.

I scroll through people’s comments. The mysterious #quaranteen appears.

The second #quaranteen is pretty, pretty, pretty.

The #quaranteens have to be the two teenagers from the news.

Yep, I’d go to #quaranteen with her.

The two #quaranteens sure would make a cute couple.

Couple. Oh god. I should probably make sure Kelsey has seen my post.

I wonder if Flora has seen it, and all the comments.

She’s watching her TV and flipping through a magazine. She’s been quiet this morning. “Excited to see Kelsey today?” She smiles, but she looks tired.

“Yeah. I feel kinda guilty, though. I think the trip has been hard on her.”

“On her?” Flora scoffs. “Um, she knows you’re in quarantine, right?”

“She’s probably nervous or something.”

“Or something,” Flora mutters.

I laugh uneasily.

“Anyway, I hope you’ve told her you’re excited to see her.”

“I don’t think dudes say ‘excited.’ ”

“Fine. Looking forward to seeing her?”

“Am I meeting her for a job interview?”

“I don’t know. You’re the dude. You put it in dudespeak for me.”

“I thought you were the author of the girl handbook?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I need a ghostwriter today.” She’s rubbing the sides of her head.

I look at her more closely, see how tired she really is. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just feeling really tired today. I couldn’t sleep. I’ll be fine.” She waves her hand.

My phone dings. I look away from Flora and read my latest text from Kelsey: OMG, it’s so hot here!

I think I even miss sweating.

I write back: Will be *cool* to see you today!

She doesn’t respond.