“Dinner with friends” worried about their kids, the turbid floodwaters of Lake Michigan, the end times that keep not ending. The house is quiet and the world, friends, is calm. Switch off the computer and pick up another screen—the connection that separates is never far away. I tap this out in the kitchen while my wife works and our daughter watches her hundredth episode of Gilmore Girls. The ordinary is distinct from the normal, isn’t it? It’s normal now to always be at home. It’s ordinary to recoil from walls like flesh, in mutual squeamishness. There’s coffee tomorrow. There’s time.