It was Matt’s birthday, the 9th. We flew back from Spain the night before and I went into the office the next morning to regroup with the team. In our exec session that morning, we decided to close the office for an indefinite period of time and encouraged all NYC staff to take home anything they might need. “Assume we might not get back here til June,” Anil said.

I took the 2/3 train to the Grand Army Plaza stop. Already you could feel a heightened tension in the air and a noticeable decrease in riders. What’s normally a push and a shove type stop at Barclays during rush hour was more like a side-step shuffle.

I arrived first and went straight to the restroom to wash my hands. Matt did the same shortly after. A couple of cocktails and several plates of Italian-fare later, we found ourselves stuffed. Even though we passed on dessert, our waiter sent over a comped gelato with a birthday candle. (Thanks, Fausto!)

That was the last Monday commute. The last subway ride. The last meal out. The last handshake. The last time existing within 6-feet of a stranger.

That was 20 days ago and it looks doubtful that I’ll experience that again 20 days from now. I find myself thinking about “my lasts” and waiting for any sign of hope a list of “agains” is on the horizon.

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