Pandemic Pietá

I’m at the front of the checkout line at the local drug store, just behind the yellow line, sporting my cherry print pandemic mask. The customer standing at the counter clutches the handles of his rollator—a walker with a seat. He looks to be in his 50’s, but he might be younger. Scraggly beard and hair, a leather pouch with a shoulder strap tucked under one arm. He looks worn down.

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