Mask? check. Gloves? check. I’m ready to go to the shop. Down the stairs and up the hill, my pace is slower than it used to be. No more rushing. Time under Covid is elastic, life unfolds in slow motion, panic is over for now, at least for me. I pass the boarded up pub and put my mask on. Gloves are next, just before I reach the crossing so it’s safe to press the button at the traffic light. Why do I still feel the need to press the button? I will wait. Why do I even feel the need to press the button when I know it doesn’t make the traffic stop? Well, the world is upside down but there’s one thing that I know: the autopilot inside me is still on.