That summer, I walked around my mom’s condominium complex listening to an endless loop of “Spring Day” and Agust D’s “People,” thinking of what I had lost. Two months later, my dad’s stroke: anxious flight home, quarantine, no hospital visits, pausing the TV during the “Spring Day” music video to talk to him about where his medicine might be and saying I love you one last time on the phone, the long walk down the stairs to break the news to my sister. Soon after I arrived home: news reports, work from home, quarantine, empty grocery shelves, DIY masks, spiraling dread. That week is now forever crystallized as Before.
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June 2023
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