The dryad who lives inside the oak tree has been terrorizing the condo building dwellers for generations. She throws acorns and pours sap and drops pollen on their cars, and causes severe allergies in ... [+]
"Are you scared?" I ask Dad over the phone. "What do I have to be scared about?" he says. "We're locked in our rooms." He's always been tough like that, stoic, but I wish I could see his face, hug him. I know from weekly reports the nurse sends me that he's thin, frail. But he still gets up every day, does his morning exercises, makes himself breakfast. The last time I saw him, Julie and I helped him moved into this retirement home, thinking he‘d be safer here. I was about to visit him this spring when the virus struck. "I wish we could Zoom," I say. Dad‘s computer doesn‘t have a camera, and h