I’m infected. You know what I’m infected with. You saw it on the news. The World Health Organization called it a pandemic the other day. I never thought it would infect me. But, it did. Now, I don’t know what to do.

Unlike some people my age, I don’t have a salary. I don’t have any sick days. I used them all when I sprained my ankle in January. Brett says I need a doctor’s note to get paid leave. You know, to make sure I’m not capitalizing on the paranoia to dodge shifts. He doesn’t want to set a precedent. Problem is, I can’t afford the bill. Sure, it’s not a 100k heart attack bill. But $175 for a checkup is almost half a week’s pay. I know I need to self-quarantine. But, I don’t have any savings. I can’t pay rent if I don’t go out and make rent money. You know what I need to do. But, I’m not sure I have the stomach to do it.

I checked the clock and downed a Benylin shot. Forty-five minutes until my shift starts. Gotta get moving. Donning a medical mask, I broke quarantine.

As I rode the bus, disease spewed from my mouth like a thick green fog. My noxious gases carried malicious little germs. A child looked up at me. Microscopic predators scurried across her skin, into her eyes and mouth. Soon she too leaked green. I imagined her sick and dying. I imagined all the people her infernal vapors would infect. She smiled at me. Smile while you can little one. Smile before the plague begins.

Getting off the bus, I watched a thousand subtle suicides. A man on a bench licked ketchup off his hand and began leaking green. A little boy sipped from a public fountain and began leaking green. A woman, already leaking, kissed her husband, regurgitating green into his mouth like a mother bird. Misty leak hugged the ground, ripe for breathing. I coughed. Bystanders recoiled. If they only saw what I could see. They would break down in tears.

When I showed up at work Brett yelled at me and told me to take off my mask. He told me I’m scaring away the customers while spitting leak like a toxic flamethrower. I protested, but he insisted.

“Just wash your hands.” He said. “It’ll be fine.” He said.

I washed my hands, dirtying them again the second they touched my breath. By the time I’d gotten ready and clocked in, plague filled the building like a tainted hotbox. I thought about leaving. I thought about running away. But, I didn’t. Instead, I put on a smile and greeted my next victim.

“Welcome to Burger King. May I take your order?”