So, in this fantasy, what are you wearing?
Where are you going?
I am going to meet people in a public place. I am going to stand near those people.
How big is the distance between you and those people going to be?
It is going to be so small.
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Three feet?
Less than three feet. One foot. No, six inches. I might get into an elevator with strangers.
Oh my god, how many people will be in the elevator with you?
So many. Like, eight.
Eight.
Or . . . nine. And we won’t make eye contact with each other. We’ll just stand really close, breathing air together, silently. Except I might turn to one of them and glance quickly at what they are wearing and pick an item at random and say that I love it, just to say something. And then they will glance down really quickly to make sure they’re wearing whatever it was I complimented, because they are so surprised anyone would single it out to compliment. And then I will get out of the elevator.
Yes?
And walk to my desk. Which I will touch. With my hands. I will touch the keyboard of my computer using my bare fingertips. I will press each key, and feel it give beneath the pressure of my supple hands, which are soft because I have not been washing them every eight minutes for the past 50 days. And the keyboard will clack meaningfully as it is touched, and it will grow warm beneath my touch.
Does time feel like it has meaning for you?
Oh, yeah, it feels like it has so much meaning. Each hour of the day I am doing something different, and night and day feel very distinct.
Then, after work, what will you do.
I might . . . buy food.
To cook for yourself?
I would not cook for myself. I would have food prepared by someone else who knows what they are doing.
Take-out?
No. I might go to the place where I bought the food and sit there and eat the food.
Oh my god. In the place? Are there other people there?
So many other people. People having business meetings. Maybe even a date. Maybe some people are there with their kids. Kids whom they have seen only for some hours of the day, not for all hours of the day. And — are you ready? — I am mad that they are there.
You’re mad?
I am mad because these people are there at the same time as I am, at the food place, and they are talking and making sounds, so that I am forced to notice that they are there. And this makes me unhappy, to be in a public place, sharing food and space with others. It’s so commonplace for me that I am mad about it. But I pay the bill, and I tip. And my tip is just to thank the person who served me for doing their job, not for doing their job and also putting their life at risk. I am just having a beef entree in a way that does not involve risking anyone’s life.
Then what?
I have plans, but I’m not even excited about them.
God.
I go out.
Out?
I go to a place where people are gathered closely indoors, and I drink alcohol out of a glass that was there before me and will be there after I am gone. It takes me a long time to get the attention of the person who is pouring the alcohol, because there are so many people there, all pressed together. Then I go to the bathroom, where there is a long line. Two people in the bathroom are having a conversation and everyone cannot help hearing it and joining in, and when we leave we all feel that we have formed a strong bond.
Then?
Get this: I get bored, and leave.
You leave?
I go home. I think, I will have a better time at home than here, with all these people. I get into a taxi, just a random taxi, and I sit in it, and I go home. When I get home, I wash my hands.
And?
And I touch my face. I touch my whole face. I itch my eyebrow and I also tug in vain at a black hair that has shown up in the center of my chin. I touch my face everywhere.
Yeah?
Then I realize: I am out of toilet paper. But it doesn’t matter. I can always get more.
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