out of the frying pan, into the fire

I am startled awake by the sounds of laughing, of chatter and cars outside my window. At first, I can't believe my ears. I rub my sleep-crusted eyes and will myself fully awake, stealing a glance at my phone screen. My cat stirs and leaps lightly from my hip to the window, just as curious as I am.

It's 10:30, and I have about a million text notifications. Ignoring them, I open the door and step out onto my balcony. I really don't want to tackle the chore of responding to each one right now.

I hadn't dreamt it. There really are people out there, not wearing masks and certainly not six feet apart. It takes a moment for the implication of what I'm seeing to sink in.

Are we finally free? It seems so.

No more deafening silence or hours spent pacing the apartment. No more isolation. Best of all, no more of the phrase "social distancing."

I shake my husband gently by the shoulder, excited to tell him the great news. As he regains consciousness, he hears it, too.

"No fucking way. Really?! It's really happening. You're serious?"

He jumps up, not running to the window like I expected but hurrying to turn on the TV instead. Watching the news. I expect that the president will be holding a conference on the matter, and I'm right.

"Finally, this whole mess is over. The crisis has passed, and you know, that's all thanks to me."

Ugh. Of course, but whatever. He can't spoil my mood as long as I get to see the sun again.

"I got us vaccines, I said to China, I said, 'China, this is all your fault and we made vaccines first but... you know.. you can't, you can-- can't have em.'" Bummer, but did anyone expect anything different?

He continues with his speech.

"And I said to Russia, 'you can't have em either; I think you're gonna steal our secrets and I can't let you do that. Tell you what -- get rid of your nukes and I'll give you a cure, kay?'"

What the hell is he on about?

I feel the stirrings of unease in the pit of my stomach. The other world superpowers have just been provoked yet again, and they're all just itching for another war. They've all had plenty of time to stew and plot when the world came to a standstill.

I'm not smiling anymore. Neither is my husband. We just stare at each other for a few minutes.

"Well, he does this all the time, doesn't he? This isn't anything new," he says, but the words just don't feel true.

As the day wears on, we shake it off. We're used to it by now. We do our special ritual, the one where we pick up food at a restaurant and sit in the car to eat, listening to music and talking about life. It calms me. We decide to stop by the beach for a while to watch the sunset.

But as the moment comes, as the bright orange flame is halfway beyond the horizon, another bright object lights up the sky. Everyone stares at it, watches it approach... and then the screaming begins.

It's the end, all right, and we've jumped out of the frying pan into the fire.