Mai lies on her couch, one leg draped over the backrest. She’s four minutes into an IGTV she wish she hadn’t started. Of course, she keeps watching though.

A pretty blond wearing a sports bra is in tears. Eyes puffed, she’s got that intentionally wrecked, no-makeup look going. “I’ve been crying for the past three days. I’ve just felt so hopeless about everything that’s going on in our country.” The Internet model buries herself in her hands, then emerges with a trite look of determination. “But, I will pledge to do better. I’ve been reading and listening. I even watched Oprah’s The Color Purple, and I read a poem by Maya Angelou called ‘I know why the jailbirds sing.'”

Mai winces at the poem title’s butchering, but she can’t turn away. Plus, she’s got nothing better to do than see where this is going. It’s kinda crazy this chick went high school with her.

The come-to-Jesus moment with over 600k views and likes continues, “Though I will never understand what it’s like to be hated because of how I look, I promise to use my privilege to help those who cannot speak for themselves.” She holds her hand to her heart. “As a valued white woman, I will use my voice to help my African American sisters and brothers who deserve so much better! To all my African American viewers”–like, no one? Mai thinks–“I am someone who believes you matter.”

Suddenly, there’s thunderous knocking at Mai’s door. “Ahh!” she screams. The knocking continues, but she’s hesitant to get it. It’s a pandemic, after all. She can’t just be inhaling anyone’s droplets. “Who is it?” she asks.

“The hell do you think it is?” Retorts a cheeky and familiar voice. “Open up, girl. I know you’re not doing anything better than watching reruns of Rupaul.”

Mai opens the door for Devon, a skinny, bronze-toned Black kid with ornate tattoos, bleach blond hair, and an overall manicured look. He’s holding a cardboard sign that reads “Black Trans Lives Matter.”

“What’s up?”

“What’s up is I was just at the ABLM protest.” He smiles proudly, showing off the dimples in his babyface.

“I saw on your stories. How was it?” Mai, whose small frame is buried under a large tee and running shorts, sits back on the couch. Devon takes off his shoes to come in.

“It was… amazing. Mai, the energy is unreal. It feels like something deep is shifting. Like, everyone’s on the same page this time.”

“For sure. Wish I could’ve been there.”

“Why weren’t you?”

“I have exercise induced asthma, Devon. I’m high risk, duh?”

“That hasn’t stopped you from having me, Tracy, Keisha, and Padma over all the time, sharing drinks and bongs.”

“That’s different. I know you all.”

“Exactly, so you know we haven’t really been the best at social distancing. Especially Tracy, she’s out there taking like three Tinder walks a week.”

“Just because I don’t feel like being surrounded by crowds doesn’t mean anything. I signed petitions, sent emails, donated to GoFundMes and Facebook charities,” she lists. “And you know I’m poor, bitch, so don’t start with me.”

Devon plops down next to her. “Nah, Mai, you’re definitely down for the cause. It’s not that.” He looks at her, making sure she’s listening. “I just think you need to get out more, in general.” His eyes narrow with concern. “You basically haven’t done much of anything since this quarantine started.”

Mai shoots daggers. “…It’s a fucking quarantine?”

Devon holds up his hands. “Don’t get irritated. I’m just checking in with little Ponyo is all.” He pokes her side.

“Oh my god, don’t.” Mai hugs a pillow. “I’ve gained like three pounds.”

Devon raises his brows. “More like six,” he says under his breath.

“What? Shut up!” Mai changes topics. “What’s it like outside? Was there tear gas and shit?”

“Nah, nah. This was chill. It was a big, peaceful, spirited march.”

Mai ponders something, then turns to her friend. “I’m proud of you, you know,” she says admiringly. “You’re actually doing it, taking action.” She smushes Devon’s cheeks like an elderly aunt. “Such a brave, heroic activist!”

“Gotta show up for my people,” he says like he’s Clark Kent downplaying rescuing a bus full of kids.

“That’s just who you are, Devon. You care about people and equality.” She seems to be commending him for something she frustratingly lacks. “You’ll always be on the right side of history,” she philosophizes. “You showed up for my people, too. Remember you shared all those photos with me captioning MY FRIEND IS NOT A VIRUS.” She laughs. “That was actually kind of weird, dude. I didn’t expect to get like, fifteen notifications and see that many photos of myself as your Asian friend.”

Devon laughs, too. “I made sure they were good photos.”

“Yeah, they were.” They both smile, and Mai reflects on pleasant memories.

“How are you doing though?”

“Um. I’m fine?” She’s put off by the concern she detects in his voice. “Why? You see me like, all the time. How are you?”

He backs off. “I’m good, I’m fine.” Devon checks his phone. “I’m actually heading to this small gathering in a bit. Do you want to come?”

“Who’s going to be there?”

“Not sure. This cute guy at the protest invited me. It’s going to be less than 10 people though. Well, maybe 11 if you come.”

“You already know I won’t go, but have fun. Who’s the guy? Show me pics.”

“When I get his IG, I’ll show you.” Devon puts on his shoes. “Thanks for letting me stop by.” He takes his mask from his pocket and wears it. “Your birthday’s next week, right? You have any plans yet for the big 3-0.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Devon?” Mai screams. “I’m turning 29, NOT 30!”

Devon cracks up. “Damn, ’twas a joke. And nothing wrong with 30. I know beautiful ass women in their 40s thirst trapping college boys.”

“Um, ew. Ok, I love you my pretty friend.” Mai gives Devon a big hug. “Have fun on your date.”

The door closes, leaving her with a moment of uneasy quiet. No screens, no music, no friends.

She hasn’t eaten all day, and a pizza sounds nice. Mai is browsing DoorDash when she gets an incoming FaceTime call from her mom. She sighs and answers.

“Yes.”

An elegant 60-something Vietnamese woman with micro-bladed brows squints into the screen, trying to assess everything about Mai’s life from what she can see. Behind her is Mai’s dad, an older Asian man with an impressive head of hair still.

“Mai! Where are you? At home?” her mother asks frantically.

“That’s correct,” Mai answers with calm agitation. “As you can see, I am at my home.”

“Good! Don’t go outside too much. Coronavirus is still out there.”

Her dad echoes. “Yes, Mai. Very dangerous, ok? There is been more spikes.”

“Don’t be spring break, don’t be dancing at beach with all those people!”

“I haven’t been on spring break in eight years. But ok, Mom,” Mai says.

Her mom goes on, “Are you eating? What did you eat today?”

“Nothing yet. I was just about to order a pizza.”

“Pizza! Is so unhealthy. Why you won’t make vegetables or noodles?”

“Pizza is fast, pizza is cheap, and pizza never fails to fill me up. It’s efficient.”

“Why you need efficiency for right now?” her mom rebuts. “How is your day? What did you do?”

“I brushed my teeth, and I’m rewatching Handmaid’s Tale.”

“That’s it? You do any of the exercise? You apply for more graphic arts jobs? How about something productive?”

“I watched an episode of Shark Tank.”

Mai’s mom rolls her eyes.

“I like that guy, Mark Cuban!” her dad says. “I like that Indian guy, too. They are smart men.”

“All day you are watching other people’s success,” Mai’s mom reasons. “Why? Why you are not working on your own?”

Mai considers this point. “That’s actually a pretty accurate description of my life,” she states indifferently.

“You know, Mai. Now is very interesting time. It will be history, especially for the young people like you,” her mother states. “There is so much with the human rights. The white people, and the black people, and the Asian people, where the virus is from… It’s a drama. You should make one of your designs about this!”

“I should make a graphic design about the pandemic and racial tensions?”

“Yes! Why not? You are artist. Artist expresses what happens in the world. Like, that koi image you had once draw. All the fish are swimming up the stream, it symbols overcoming challenge. I liked that picture you draw. And now, you can add Martin Luther King, who never give up on his dream.” Her mother visualizes excitedly, staring off to somewhere past the screen. “And all the fish are different colors.”

“You want me to draw Martin Luther King as a koi fish… and add a bunch of brown and white and black fish, all swimming upstream. And a bunch of yellow fish on the side, and what? Masks and virus particles? And this will somehow be an inspirational piece that makes some sort of important statement about all of 2020.”

“Sure!” They’re getting somewhere, her mom thinks. “And in center, you can paint me and your daddy. To your parents, who always love and support you. We never give up on you, Mai. Just like Dr. King, we never give up.”

“Alrighty then,” Mai vetoes. “I’m gonna order a pizza. Anything else, or can I end this call?”

Her mother frowns. “Why you such rude girl? No one wants to have such dark negative girl as friend or as wife. Mai, you need to change that.”

Spotting the conversation taking a turn, her father intervenes. “No! Mai is smart and strong girl. And she is beautiful! She looks like her mother and like her daddy.” He strikes his fist to his knee. “She is good girl! I would marry Mai!”

Mai grimaces. “Well thank you once again, parents, for another delightful conversation. I am going to get some dinner, as I am famished, but I look forward to our next call.”

“Ok, Mai. Order salad. We love you.” Mai’s mother says.

“Bye bye, Mai.”

Mai hangs up.

She’s about to purchase her medium pizza and liter of soda when she sees that delivery fees have tacked on nearly eight dollars to her order. The fuck? she thinks. Screw it, she’s going to Trader Joe’s.

Mai is in the snack aisle deciding between Ketchup Flavored Spud Crunchies and Ranch Seasoned Crispy Chickpeas when someone says, “Get the ketchup chips. Definitely.”

She turns to see a handsome man in his 30s. He’s racially ambiguous, bearded, and wearing an Under Armour mask. “They remind me of home,” he says.

“Where’s home?” Mai asks, intrigued.

“Canada.”

“Oh.” she says flatly.

“I’ve been in LA for three months now. I came right before everything started shutting down, so this Trader Joe’s is pretty much all I’ve seen of the city.”

Mai looks around. “In all honesty, this is a pretty good representation. You got a lot of juice junkies and yoga instructors here.” She points to a man wearing a deep, deep V neck. “He definitely meditates.”

“Right. His Instagram stories are giving us all the guidance we need to get through these difficult times.”

“Seems a lot of people are having spiritual awakenings.” Mai says, making a candid observation.

The snack aisle guy musters a tone of positivity. “I guess we’ll all come out of this stronger and changed, for the better,” he regurgitates some PC statement he’s heard.

“I suppose…” Mai reflects, “I mean it’s great so many people get to go through beautiful transformations, reassessing priorities, learning patience and appreciation. That’s great for them. Everyone keeps talking about how we’ll evolve as a human race.” She scrunches her face. “But this situation is also pretty fucked. 40 million Americans are unemployed, barely surviving. A lot of people are dying from this. A lot of people have died alone this year, and a lot of people have lost their loved ones without being able to say goodbye. What’s that? Just the collateral?” Mai feels like she’s finally getting something off her chest. It’s easier to talk when words aren’t expected from her. “And it’s amazing we’re having all this social change. I mean that sincerely. We’re in the midst of the largest civil rights movement in history. But it took a nine minute video of a man–someone’s father–being suffocated to death going viral in order for us to pay attention. And how about all the people before George Floyd? Breonna Taylor? Tamir Rice?–That kid was twelve. And then Rayshard Brooks just got murdered this week for fuck’s sake.” Mai’s words turn a few heads. She lowers her volume. “Like, it’s cool, a portion of the population, the majority of the population even, will survive this and have tales of personal growth. But as survivors, we’ll indulge in fruitful life experiences and butterfly emojis through all the pain, just because, by some freak accident, we got lucky? As if on top not dying, we get a prize. What makes us deserve that?” She ends her tirade. “Anyway, I don’t know.”

He’s absolutely captivated. “Thank you, I’m so glad I heard that.” He tries to contribute to the conversation. “Well if it’s any consolation, I’ve been feeling pretty shitty myself because this shut down hasn’t really affected me. I’m already used to working remote, being in software development, so while everyone’s going through changes and challenges, I’ve just been in my stupid little bubble per usual. And work’s been busy. I haven’t even gotten the chance to slow down, pay attention and reflect. It’s like humanity’s on this collective ride that I’m not a part of.” He throws out his hands. “You had a lot of profound insights. I’m basically just a waste of space, really,” he says with a smile, indulging her.

For some reason the bizarreness of this moment, striking intimacy with a stranger in a grocery store during a dystopian crisis, makes perfect sense to her. And also, no sense at all. Out of nowhere, Mai feels inclined to sing that Fallout Boy song. “We’re going down, down in an earlier round. And Sugar, we’re going down swinging,” she warbles.

Her new companion is completely thrown off but charmed. He starts laughing, and Mai laughs, too.

His laugh is warm and full, and it feels cozy.

Then, it becomes gruff. It becomes choppy and hoarse.

He breaks into a cough.

Mai stops laughing. “You alright there?”

But he can’t answer. He’s still coughing. People start clearing the aisle, and Mai takes a few steps back as well.

“Well, um. It was nice meeting you.” She holds up the ketchup chips. “I’m getting these.”

He’s starting to catch his breath.

“You should, uh, get that checked out.”

He clears his throat a few more times.

“Stay safe!” she says before turning down the frozen foods aisle.