I am kicking back, relaxing at the party.
I watch a man walk over to the appetizer table. On the way, I see him cough into his hand. Not a big huge hacking cough, but there was definitely transference of saliva.
The man gets to the table. I'm keeping an eye out, because I am curious if he will use the same hand to grab some caprese or wield one of the communal spoons or whatever.
He reaches out, and in some sort of slow motion, I watch as he gleefully plunges the coughed-upon hand into the bowl of mixed nuts, digging around a bit.
He pulls his handful of nuts out, and nonchalantly walks away, nibbling on a macadamia with a smug satisfaction.
What was I supposed to do at this point? Fling myself out my chair, pointing at the offending nut-eater for all to see? Power my way through the crowd at the appetizer table and grab the nut dish, carrying the germ-laden contents safely into the kitchen away from the innocent party-goers?
I was frozen as someone else sidestepped from the rolled prosciutto to the nut dish. I could do nothing she spooned some cashews and walnuts onto her plate. She turned, and I could see her profile.
Ah, it was all good.
Karma, of a sort, had played its hand well.
She sashayed over to virus transmitter man, and slipped her arm through his.
I watched as they both dined unconcernedly on their mixed nuts, and briefly sighed with relief that the universe works in strange and unknowable ways.