I wake up feeling like I can’t breathe. I don’t hear Oliver snoring, so he must still be awake.

I pick up my phone, and I have texts from him. I delete the texts without reading them. I don’t need him to remind me that I’m diseased, that I’m disgusting. I don’t know what I was thinking when I tried to kiss him. Just like the first time I kissed him.

I wish I could delete him from my life. It was a mistake to kiss him the first time, and it was an even bigger mistake to try to kiss him the second time.

We only have one day left in quarantine. We went without speaking the first few days of quarantine; I’m sure we can end our time in quarantine the same way.

Then we’ll be on our way back to Brooklyn, back to our separate lives, and this will all be in our past.

Just like our kiss.