A Hermit Is Forced To Go To A Crowded Place [FICTOID]

I wish I had a chauffeur, thought the hermit, putting his hand sewn mask on his face.  I’d send them instead of going myself.

He picked up a water bottle his 3D printer rendered for him, planning to fill it from the water way as he walked to town.

He used his computer for 3D printing and little else, keeping his ledger in an old notebook and writing his memoirs on a battered century old typewriter.

The typewriter was what compelled him to go to town in the middle of a pandemic:  he needed new ribbons.

He’d figured out a way of extending the life of his old ribbons indefinitely, but he still needed to buy ink for them to soak in.

He knew about the pandemic from his radio, of course; he was isolated but not out of touch.  

Once ready, he set off.

It took an hour to reach town.  He passed few people on the way -- a couple of runners, a pizza delivery driver, a dog walker, and a police officer, all wearing masks -- then reached the art supply store on the edge of town.

His heart fell when he saw the “Going Out Of Business” signs.

What will I do when I run out of ink? he wondered.  Make more out of soil?

He found a clerk stocking the ink shelf with the last remaining carton in the store.  Checking his meager change, he wondered if he could get the clerk to sell him three bottles at a discount instead of the two he normally bought.

“What price can you offer me on those bottles?” he asked.

The clerk recognized the hermit and handed him the whole carton.  “Take ‘em all,” she said.  “I’m feeling lenient.”

© Buzz Dixon