I travelled through the streets of West 42nd with ease, adjusting my mask, and the straps that pinched my ears. A ghost town, nearly, say for the few other pedestrians that was taking advantage of the crowd less sidewalks. Never in my life I thought I would see the ‘wonderous” Times Square so empty; without all it’s tourist taking pictures, the aggressive costume adorners chasing after you, and the New Yorkers rushing. It was a weird feeling, but also satisfying to the New Yorker side of myself of not having to do people-dodging. I walked with my mother towards East 34 Street, 6th Ave, her complaining loudly in Cantonese about the union giving us a fuss. We had just about all the time in the world. No work and school was not in session. It sounded like a dream. Besides the rampant virus going around of course, that prevented the entire world from doing anything regarding outdoor leisure with all the sudden time we had on our hands.

For the first time in three months, I ate the meal that I used to frequently get at K-Town, a BBQ Bulgogi rice platter, making note of how the portions had gotten smaller. My mom laughed and spoke of inflation. We rode the train home, which smelled strongly of disinfectant; 100% better than the public bathroom stench the MTA usually holds. It was just as empty as the city, another foreign feeling, yet bliss, since I didn’t have to fight for my life into a train cart; and be squished like an anchovy in a can between other sweaty people.

Upon reaching home, comfort settles as I aggressively scrub my hands with soap for more than the recommended time of 20 seconds, and a change back into my pajamas; which will be my outfit for the remainder of the year.