I am alone. Well, Gregory lives with me, but we don’t talk. It’s strange. I thought after a year of lockdown, he’d at least engage in casual kitchen conversation, but no. He works the night shift, taking phone calls for 24/7 tech support. At least, that’s what he was doing a year ago. It wasn’t overnight that we stopped talking. Gradually over the five years we’ve been married, we just lost the spark. It’s neither of our faults, or maybe it’s both. Either way, I’ve talked more with strangers on the street recently than I have with my husband and we all know how willing strangers are to stop and chat these days. I don’t tell you this for you to pity me. I don’t feel sorry for myself and so neither should you. I tell you this so that maybe you can understand why I did what I did.