Unforgiving Gaze

Stella

As I approach Mr. Mercer and the health inspector, I slip off my hood and my blue surgical mask, sticking the mask in my pocket. I’m sure I look like a wreck at the moment, but that’s not at the forefront of my mind right now.

“Morning, Stella,” Mr. Mercer says, his eyes filled with a confusing mixture of sympathy and disappointment. He nods toward my pocket where I’ve just stored the mask