A Year With the Sorceress

A rekindled affair

Aissa Martell
Age of Empathy

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Artwork by the author

I thought I was living with myself just fine, that is until I started dating myself. Then I discovered an impetuous, touchy clingy appendage who, unlike everyone else I could shake off during shut down was totally inseparable.

Let me back up. I, just like every other typical New Yorker, was deep in my grind. I had just added a new license to my professional resume and started a new job. Old blue eyes didn’t sing “If I can make it there I’ll make it anywhere” for nothing. It’s about hard work and New Yorkers know hard work pays off. We work hard and notoriously play hard, it is after all the city that never sleeps. I, like my very nearby neighbors, am driven by the pulse of the grind, it is the heartbeat of the city. It is the source that keeps the circulation moving through the arteries of the city streets.

Then it happened, all of us cells on our various missions started to thin out. The beat started to descend and the ones who could keep stomping tried to ride it out until the crescendo. I’ve always been one of those stompers, but the lights came up and the club shut down. And the city that never sleeps was decreed to rest. That’s when it all began. The drive was silenced and there was nowhere to go, and nothing to do but avoid panic and catching a virus that could potentially take my life.

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