Future Darkly: Pandemic - Kate and the Free Man

Kate bolts upright in bed, earplugs in, goggles on, oxygen mask strapped tight. Panic floods her chest and she fights it down, staring at the stupid list taped to the kitchen counter. Every box is another ritual meant to keep the world out. The sight of them all at once tightens her throat. She slams the marker down, breathes, slaps on gloves, and starts the whole fucking routine. She works through the list like it’s gospel—disinfecting every surface, wiping every corner. The landline rings. She ignores it. The message clicks on and it’s her sibling again, pissy, telling her to water those damn plants left on the porch. Click. Beep. Door cracks open. She shoves a grabber through the gap, gloves squeaking, but the pots are still out of reach. She grunts, jabs, swears, finally slams the door and heads straight for the shower. Hot water, hard scrub, skin turning pink. She closes her eyes, mind drifting to packed sidewalks, loud voices, hands everywhere. Her fingers slide lower without thinking. Arousal hits fast. In her head, a mask drops, gets crushed under heavy boots. Those boots belong to a guy—maskless, unafraid. The image makes her moan. She works herself harder, desperate, chasing the rush that only this stranger’s face can give her.