Chicago, February 1, 2021
He looks out the window of their condo on the fourth and top floor across the city. The lake, barely visible on the other side of the four blocks of homes and buildings much like this one. His daughter, 10 years old, so excited to be going back to school today. He'll have to tell her that today is not the day.
The news, the teachers, refusing. The mayor, imploring. Threatening to cut off their internet access so they can't even teach remotely. Another year lost of her learning.
His wife, purse across shoulder and work heels clicking across the hardwood, leaves through the front door, without looking in his direction, much less a word goodbye. He watches her walk down the steps, where he knows in her small office she will find some sense of accomplishment on this day.
He takes a deep breath, then logs into his work. The clouds will break later in the morning, and there will be some sunlight that will drift in through the window.
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