My last morning waking up in quarantine. My last morning waking up next to Flora. I bet she can’t wait to get back to Brooklyn, to get away from me.

I pull my suitcase out of the wardrobe. There’s still some sand in it. My mom asked a hospital worker to do my gross laundry from my spring break, so I pack my newly clean clothes. Such a contrast from when I threw all my dirty, crusty clothes into my suitcase in the Dominican Republic.

In the Dominican Republic, before I met Flora. Before Kelsey was my girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend.

My mom comes in, tugging her giant suitcase behind her. She stops by my bed, but the suitcase topples over and opens the curtain between my bed and Flora’s.

Flora looks down at the suitcase, then up at me and my mom. She asks, “Do you need help, Ms. Russell? Maybe redistribute some of the weight?”

“I always overpack. I wasn’t sure how long I’d be here, what the weather would be like, plus I picked up a few souvenirs. Oh, Oliver, I wish we were on the same flight! Flora, you’ll take good care of him, right? Just like you did on the way here?”

“Mom, she doesn’t need to take care of me.” I step in, feeling embarrassed. But I can’t help but be happy to see Flora again. Even though she was right next to me, I missed her.

“I’d be happy to, Ms. Russell.” She smiles at my mom, then looks at me. Her smile fades a little. “Only if it’s okay with Oliver.”

“It’s more than okay with me,” I say. “I mean, sure. I mean, thank you.”

Flora smiles again and says, “No problem.” She goes back to folding her clothes.

“Next time I see you I won’t be wearing a hazmat suit!” my mom says. “Can you believe we’ll be home tonight, sleeping under the same roof again?”

I look at Flora. “No, not at all.”

I’m still looking at her when my mom gasps. “I’m going to be late! Oh, I can’t wait to give you a hug without this suit!” She wraps her arms around me. “I love you, Oliver. Please text me when you’re on your way to the airport—”

“And at the airport, on the airplane. Got it, Mom.”

She does the weird nose thing again, then hurries out the door, tugging the suitcase behind her. She pulls off her hazmat suit and throws it in the bin. Her suitcase falls again and almost knocks over a doctor. She picks it up, and she’s gone.

Flora and I look at each other, the curtain still open.

“Thanks, Flora,” I say.

“For what?”

“For … everything.”

Before she can say anything else, her dad and Goldy arrive.

Is it possible to miss Flora already?