Part 2 A Knock atThe Door by Melinda Cochrane ( scroll down for part one)

I didn't move from the bed. I listened intently for the sound. Nothing. I sat up in bed and pulled on a sweater. Sitting up was an effort after a sleepless night.  I opened my bedroom curtains to see if anyone was outside, nobody. Nobody seemed to be awake in their homes. I sat back down on my bed. Maybe the isolation was getting to me. I felt a certain level of anxiety as I was used to controlling the things around me. I could not control the course of COVID-19, but what bothered me the most was I could not control the way it was affecting me. Being off from work as a receptionist at a small furniture company left me applying for my first unemployment check.  At fifty-five I was never in this position. I was also worried about my two children, married and living in Toronto. Video chatting with them didn't relieve this worry. 

I made my bed. The floral bedspread seemed to cheer me up with its small delicate trace of purple and blue hues. After making the bed I got dressed. I needed a coffee. I caught a glimpse of a photo of a trip we'd taken as a family, and suddenly as if waking me from my memories, I heard it again. 

A knock at the door.