Itâ€™s a Thursday evening, while the contemporary restaurant in midtown Manhattan is mobbed. a new woman goes to welcome her buddies but pauses. â€œAre we nevertheless kissing from the cheek?â€ she asks. (the solution is apparently a tentative yes.) Some guy in a suit that is gray out a container of Purell. â€œYou could offer that for $100 on Amazon,â€ some body next to him jokes. The guy that is gray-suit and walks away, clutching their bottle near to their upper body. an unattended hand sanitizer sits for dining table, appropriate close to a cappuccino, eyed covetously because of the individuals nearby. Somebody coughs. Everyone else cringes.
Meanwhile, my date is later. We fiddle through my clutch to find something Iâ€™ve brought him: a mask, jammed between my secrets, wallet, phone, lipstick, and Purell. He travels plenty for his work, and I also thought it will be a funny present. But possibly it is perhaps not. Or simply it is a representation of my very own anxiety. This really is just our date that is second yes, he travels a great deal. Wait, must I be concerned?