I enter a crowded cafe. The sun is setting and I’m wearing a name tag and an N95 mask. I drop off my backpack with its peers behind some tables, but my backpack is a navy blue and gray child’s backpack with someone else’s initials on it. Every single one of the other backpacks is square and black.
I tell myself I biked all the way over here so I should stay for an hour. I note the time, smile, and start weaving through the room, looking for anyone who’s not currently deep in conversation.
I find a person eventually and do a big wave and smile, then extend my hand for a handshake. We exchange names, glancing down at each other’s name tags because we can’t hear anything. I say (yell through my mask and the cafe noise) that I do websites, marketing, and graphic design. They ask where I work. I say I’m a freelancer. They say that’s cool.
