Glory, Glory Hallelujah
By Lynn Townsend
You’re not serious, Cam.
Cameron Price looked down at his phone. He was sitting on his balcony. At least the weather had finally warmed up that sitting outside was something he could do. He was going f*****g stir-crazy and that was a fact.
Haven’t gotten laid in three months. He texted back. He hadn’t seen anyone since the middle of March who wasn’t on the other side of a zoom call. Or the delivery people, from time to time.
And he knew he should be grateful, he should. He had a job that could be done remotely, he had enough space in his apartment that he could easily quarantine his groceries, and there were enough services in the city that he could, in fact, get his groceries delivered, as long as he planned in advance.
The little dots appear
