3rd August 2000

Everyone was sneezing on the bus this morning. The guy behind me kept coughing, and I could feel the little bursts of tepid lung-air on the back of my neck. I kept thinking about that Stephen King book where everyone in the world starts getting colds and then all of them die, except there’s a few hundred people left who form two camps. One is good, one is evil, and near the end of the book they have a battle royale for the fate of humanity.

11:49 a.m.