Mornings now that Mat was away, Laura needed something. In times of old they would stroll the mile to the Blue Coyote Café, have a cup of coffee, green tea for Mat, and they’d share a bagel, biscotti, and an hour of conversation while they read their novels. Home they’d make love, and Mat would work on his fiction, and Laura would do a poem, and then it would be time for lunch. Covid killed all that.

No one they knew was dead yet, but five women in Mat’s mom’s assisted living facility perished, so Mat took her out of there, rented a furnished apartment for the two of them, and communicated with Laura via email, messaging, and video chat. He paid the bills remotely. He ordered groceries for her remotely. But he wasn’t there, it wasn’t the same, and she missed him. She missed everything about him.

Mat’s mom was the nicest lady, but secretly, horribly, Laura wished that she had died. Not wished, not truly, but ... how long could this pandemic go on? Maybe forever. She knew she wouldn’t last that long.

“I miss you too,” he confessed.

“I feel like I’m dwindling, more and more every day. I have my coffee in the garden when it’s nice, and most days the orange cat comes around, and I talk to him.”

“What do you say?”

“Oh, just silly stuff.”

“What sort of silly stuff?”

“Like catch any fat juicy mice lately? Fuck any fat juicy pussy lately?”

“What does the cat say?”

“Nothing. He just sits there beneath my chair, smug and silent, not even a quiet meow.”

“Felines are notoriously fickle.”

“Tell me about it. But anyhow he hasn’t been around the past week. I’m beginning to get worried about him.”

“Do you want me to order you a kitten. I think some pet stores will deliver.”

“No,” Laura said after a pause. “But if you ordered me a fat juicy fuck I might not turn it down. Forget I said that. I miss you so much. Say hi to your mom.” She shut off the connection.

That afternoon Mat’s friend Nils came over. “Mat said you could use some company.” Laura fell into his arms. After a long hug, she said, “Take off that mask. If you’ve got covid I want some of it.” Mask free they hugged again. Then they kissed. Then they went to bed.

By morning there were six missed calls from Mat. While Nils made coffee, Laura sent a three word reply. “Thanks for Nils.”

“You’re welcome,” Mat texted back.

“I love you,” Laura wrote. “But I can’t talk now. Nils and I are going to have coffee in the garden, and then he might paint me, and then we might have some more sex.” She turned off her phone and her computer, and she and Nils took their coffee to the garden.

They had their coffee, and Nils set up his easel and started the painting. After a while they needed refills, and they made love again before coming back out.

“Just a few finishing touches,” Nils said.

“Can I ask you a favor?” Laura said.

“Anything.”

“There used to be an orange cat around here sometimes, but he hasn’t shown up for a while. Would it be possible for you to put him in the picture?”

“Prefect,” said Laura, upon seeing the finished painting. “I love the way you did the cat.”

“Does he have a name?”

“I was thinking of calling him Mat. Mat the Cat. But now I’m leaning toward Covidicus.”

Nils chuckled.

Laura led him back inside. “Do we have time for another fuck before dinner?”

“We do,” Nils said.

“And for dessert?”

“Definitely,” said Nils.

“And forever?”

“Until Mat comes home.”