The cicadas hissed like a rattlesnake, warning of the bite of the summer sun. Iris closed her eyes, turned her freckled face toward the tops of the trees and listened a little closer.

It was difficult to imagine during these long dog-days that, in just a few weeks, the first frosts would be upon the city and most of these harbingers would be dead.

Maybe they sounded more like grains of sand slipping through an hourglass.

Time had been a creature as strange as the cicada lately. Sometimes it seemed as though it were lying quiet and dormant for interminable periods, making her think she was stuck in this stasis forever. Then in the next moment it emerged iridescently loud, in such a fleeting fashion that it made her feel desperate for action.

Well, for action other than what she saw in the hospital everyday.

This evening, Iris felt an odd kinship with the cicadas. Their ability to be simultaneously ugly and beautiful, reminded her of the city. She also recognized the desperation in their chorus, as they searched for a companion to mate with before they died.

The year had already been so full of death. Before the thrum of primordial insects took over, the drones of the ambulances and the ventilators filled Iris's days, and haunted her nights.

Society's feet had been held to a figurative fire in 2020 and the results were predictably pathetic. The heat always seemed to bring out the worst in people.

Now the summer was raging, and along with it, tempers. The gurneys that had only brought in Covid patients for the first few months, wheeled in lots of trauma cases now.

Iris sighed and squinted her hazel eyes as a shaft of light found its way through the verdant leaves. She slipped on her sunglasses and wondered why scary stories usually began on dark and stormy nights, when there were plenty of terrible things that happened in the light of day.

She'd seen too many of them.

Her soul felt weary and her limbs heavy. Better get those legs moving again, or she risked dropping from exhaustion right there and then. Her colleagues didn't need her as one of their patients. Of course the half hour walk home could be cut significantly down by taking the subway, but Iris couldn't bear the thought of entering into those reeking depths.

Besides, she was just rushing home to an empty apartment. It had been months since she'd seen any family or friends in person. The risk of getting anyone sick was still too great.

Of course they stayed connected as best they could through calls and video chats. But it wasn't the same.

It was all wearing her down. Her nerves felt raw at the end of each shift, and it had been far too long since Iris had felt an affectionate touch.

As a nurse, Iris touched patients all day long, but she was always the one providing the comfort, and she was always professional.

And while she was surrounded by coworkers everyday, the protocols in place both before, and certainly during the pandemic, discouraged such physicality between them. Circumstances had made their days too busy for much small talk, let alone hugging. Plus, having only started at the hospital just before Covid hit, she didn't know anyone there well enough to be comfortable hugging them.

Iris felt more lonely than she ever had.

A penchant for reading and binge-watching Romances throughout the pandemic surely wasn't helping that situation.

Her heart just couldn't stand reading the murder-mysteries or listening to the true-crime podcasts that she used to love before Coronavirus. So after a shower, some wine, and some takeout, Iris knew she'd be scrolling for the next happily-ever-after to distract her from the chasm of grief she found herself sinking further into each day.

That leaden sensation made its way down to her feet. She looked at her sneakers, picturing her unpainted toenails within them. Her last pedicure had been way back in early February. Red toes, chosen for Valentine's Day, and wasted on a bad date. No chance of him seeing them after he revealed he didn't believe in marriage, and barely understood monogamy. She wasn't sure why the dating app had matched them up, unless it was purely because he lied on his questionnaire. 

She sighed, wishing she could meet someone the old-fashioned way: in person, without technology or screens. It seemed improbable before, impossible now, and likely imperceptible after.

Almost home. Might as well stop into her favorite liquor store to pick a bottle to pair with her misery.

The bells on the door handle jingled, and Iris looked up from the ground just as she was about to walk right into a fireman who was exiting the store.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, stepping quickly aside.

The equally startled man, did a small stutter step, and bobbled the bag in his hand. It swung awkwardly into the metal door frame. The distinctive tinkle of broken glass was immediately followed by a gruff expletive, and then red wine seeped through the paper bag onto both of their feet.

"I'm so, so sorry!" Iris looked into his eyes trying to determine exactly how angry the stranger was.

He squinted at her, evaluating, but saying nothing.

She was standing much closer than social distancing recommended. Close enough to see the flecks of navy mixed in with the grey of his eyes.

Iris stepped back a foot, knowing they were still too close, and hoped he couldn't see how flushed she was beneath her mask and sunglasses. "Please let me replace your bottle."

His eyes relaxed, and his voice lost its rough edge when he said, "Don't be ridiculous! It was just as much my fault as yours."

"It would make me feel better if you would just let me fix this." Iris pulled off her sunglasses. She needed a better look at him, blush be damned.

His eyes went wide. "Hey! Don't I know you?"

Iris looked up at his mop of dark hair, then to his broad shoulders, and finally to his muscled chest. He filled the doorway.

She doubted she'd forget a man like him. "I don't think so."

The store owner came up behind them with a garbage can. He held it out for the firefighter to dispose of the soggy bag before it made more of a mess.

"Here you go Dennis." In the other hand he had a fresh bottle of Cabernet.

Dennis tucked the bottle under his arm and started to reach for his wallet. "Thanks Pavel."

"No please, let me!" Iris reached out to touch Dennis's arm. A tingle reverberated deep in her stomach as her fingertips brushed against his bare skin.

Pavel waved them off. "Both of you put your money away. Accidents happen. And it's the least I can do for two of my favorite customers. Consider it my thank you for being heroes."

Dennis looked back toward Iris, recognition brightening his voice. "That's how I know you!" He held his ring-less left hand aloft to show her a sizable scar. "You were my nurse when they stitched this up."

Pavel chuckled and moved toward the back room of the store.

Dennis stepped inside and gestured for Iris to enter. She walked in carefully, trying not to track in more wine.

Not quite sure what to say next, she stammered, "I, uh... I'm sorry but I... I don't... I don't remember.... Not to say that you're not memorable... It's just that..."

The lobes of Dennis's ears grew bright pink as he said, "I don't expect you to remember. It was about eight years, and thirty pounds, ago. I was a skinny probie with a shaved head."

He shook his now bushy head and laughed. "Plus it's pretty hard to recognize anyone with these masks on. But I remember your red hair, and your kind eyes. I hate needles and you told me to look into your eyes, not at what they were doing."

Iris felt warm all over as the memory hit her. "And I held your right hand and said that if you were brave enough to run into a burning building, then surely a few stitches were nothing!"

She didn't tell him that she'd thought he was cute back then too, despite the shaved head and scrawnier physique. But he'd clearly mentioned a girlfriend while they chatted to distract him. Respecting the sanctity of committed relationships, she never said anything.

Her stomach twisted wondering if that girlfriend had become his wife. No ring didn't mean anything, especially when it came to firemen while they worked. She'd learned that lesson the hard way.

"It was nice running into you again Dennis."

"Well, almost running into me." He held out his right hand.

Iris looked at it, then up at his face. Was he smiling under that mask? His eyes weren't crinkled. They were soft and seeking. There was a yearning in them. One that she recognized because it looked back at her in the mirror everyday lately.

She put her tired, chapped hand into his. Her knuckles angry from the amount of hand-washing she did everyday.

His grip was warm and reassuring. He may have been holding just her hand, but her body responded as though he'd just taken her nipple into his mouth. She wanted to pull off his mask and look at his lips. Wanted to see if she was remembering his sweet smile accurately.

Dennis looked down at her other hand and then his eyes trailed back up to hers. "Would you like to share this bottle of wine with me?"

"Right now? Is your shift even over?"

He arched a brow. A slightly feral look came into his eyes as he nodded.

Iris contemplated. With the amount of risk they were both surrounded by everyday, surely they weren't putting each other in any more danger of infection by having a tryst.

"Your place or mine?" she asked.

His answer would determine hers. If he suggested her apartment, then he almost certainly had a girlfriend or spouse and she would decline. If he offered up his place, then she'd escort him up to hers. Assuming he worked at the engine house around the corner, he probably lived further away.

Now his eyes crinkled. "Whichever one is closest."

Dennis pulled her a bit nearer as Pavel moved behind them to mop the floor, and eavesdrop. Iris couldn't suppress the buoyant laugh that gurgled up within her.

"Your laugh sounded wonderful back then too, even though you were laughing at me."

"How could I not laugh? You told me that story about how you ran out of your pediatrician's office in your underwear, trying to avoid a vaccination shot when you were a teenager!" Iris snorted.

"So you do actually remember me!"

Iris nodded. "I also recall a serious girlfriend."

"As serious as any twenty-three year old can be. I'm certainly a more sincere man now, but much less attached than I was back then."

Pavel interjected as he walked past them again. "I can vouch for him Iris.  He is as single as you are."

Now Dennis snorted.

Iris's voice felt more like a purr as she said, "I live in the building three doors down. Let me just grab another bottle of red."