The Fashionista’s Coronavirus’ Fear
Shorter, Short Story: …doorknobs are giving her recurring jimjams.
Unlike her, she dresses, closes the door to her apartment, and catches the elevator.
Normally, her style is skimpy clothes: Body in its youthfulness should have minimalist attire; naturally, in nature, creatures have none except for humans.
She is studying Fashion and Textile Design, and intends to study further in post-Covid-19 Italy. College has reopened for the academic year, Gothenburg is in a semi-lockdown mode, with equal number of online and offline classes. Her classmates, college-mates, coequals, and compeers consider her to possess a style that is either boldly experimental or utterly ridiculous.
At the exit door of the building, a sturdy World War II structure, she ought to apply one of her hands to get out of the building. With the coronavirus pandemic in the midst, doorknobs are giving her recurring jimjams. She flexes her left-arm and lets the sleeve cuff drop to wrap her hand to touch the doorknob. The door is ajar, she puts a step, but senses someone is watching her, behind her, when she is about to put the other step. Shakily, she turns her head.
The childhood playmate is about to go into the communal laundry who notices the fashionista. The playmate guesses, ‘Are you having eczema?’
‘Of course, not,’ the fashionista clarifies. She walks out to the parking, and unlocks the bicycle. Would someone would have touched the handlebar?
Bicycle thefts are not uncommon.
She wears the gloves, and starts to ride: How to design a covid-proof garment, coat with cuffs of cuffs of cuffs.
