Shaken awake with triggers pulled, all my boxed checked. Unprepared for a meeting; running late; walking through work without my shirt. The guests arrive, too little food for everyone. I haven’t failed yet, but I will. You don’t want to read about my dream, you have nightmares of your own. At almost dawn, thirty minutes of sleep left on the clock, my mind races through worst case scenarios. I lose my job, school never restarts, the government fails. We saved too little money to make it through life. One of us dies. Coffee comforts me so I turn on the stove and start a pot. The cats squint under the kitchen light and wonder about food. Soon they’ll spar and hiss and growl and wake Susan up. My only job is to keep the peace. Feed them or throw them outside. Or maybe this time let them fight. The news remains unchanged since I went to bed. People died. Testings lagged. Poisonings spiked. WTF, people are still on cruise ships? My coffee pot exhales a rattly breath. It’s time to wake up.