The vendor turns out to be my ex-landlady, and we talk with strained politeness. I don't want to spend money, but I'm tempted to buy it anyway, just a small bit of pleasure before it's all over. I put the yellow and white flowery jar full of sugar on the kitchen table. I'm starting to feel weak, want to talk to someone. I realize that my friend Eric, whom I haven't seen for years, lives nearby.
Light glints off of the distant houses.
I go outside, the sun is shining mildly now. My hands are shaking and my joints are sore. Lots of people are lying in the street, motionless, dead. Maybe aspirin will help, I think, if I can just control the stiffness and joint pain until it passes. I swallow them dry and go get a glass of water.