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To the Delivery Driver Who Told Me He ‘Wasn’t That Worried’ About My COVID-19

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I’ve finally begun to see the light at the end of a week of hell that has been COVID-19. I finally have a little more energy, able to work at a reasonable pace without feeling exhausted, but I’m still testing positive and the lingering effects of the Omicron variant make me feel like my airways are filled with expanding insulation foam.

Meanwhile, my partner’s cough moves ever-deeper into suspected bronchitis (at best) and she sleeps away her days in fatigue.

We needed groceries. We left a warning (as we are expected to do), but the first sign of your negligence came when you strolled up to my door, maskless like so many, disregarding the social distancing that’s meant to protect us both.

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