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Back in the first weeks of the COVID shutdown, I gathered a pantry of food, board games, puzzles and hand gel. I wasn’t sure what would happen.
A few months later, mass graves were dug in New York City, refrigerator trucks stored corpses at overflowing hospitals, and the names of 100,000’s of victims were published in the paper.
Here we are again in that weird period of dread before oncoming disaster: “The Before Times.”
Only this time, it’s not a virus. It’s hate. Still, no one is safe.