‘My friend [NAME REDACTED!!] has just put a post on FaceBook,’ says Lizzie, ‘saying how sorry she feels for herself. She has… a cold.’
We both look at each other wryly, as we stand in the kitchen (socially distancing). We know [NAME REDACTED!!] is fully aware of Lizzie’s condition. She’s sent sympathetic messages.
‘Should I,’ continues Lizzie, with a mischievous glint, ‘reply that I hope she’s OK? And she should hang in there?’
‘You could say,’ I say, ‘that you can sympathise with what she’s going through, because you have Covid. On top of your cancer.’
We look at each other, small rueful smiles on our faces.
Lizzie holds up a Tupperware container, full of butternut squash soup. ‘I can’t taste anything,’ she says, ‘so I’m going to have this. ‘Cause I can actually remember what it tastes like.’
I nod.
P. D. Clifton 
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