Closed Indefinitely

by Jennifer Jolivert

I lie bed, my silenced phone face down on the nightstand beside me.

Endless chatter, emotions, decisions halted by deliberate disconnection

Morning melts into midday, time indistinct as I stare at blank walls.

I step outside for a walk at eleven or four.

People, adorned with fashionable cloth masks, now cross the street as they pass by;

a group of hipsters laughs boisterously next to a corner store

“closed indefinitely”.