The image before me is almost comical. I have to fight the urge not to shut the door on them so they don’t ruin their suits.
“What’s going on?” I ask them. “Do you have an extra mask for me? “I point at their masks. “Shouldn’t I be wearing one of those?”
The three men look at each other. They each nod, one by one, before looking back at me.
“What is it? Is it a virus or something? Do I need to be wearing a mask?”
“No,” one of them answers. “You don’t need to be wearing a mask. You are the virus.”
THE END.
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