<p>It's July; the air has a bite that promises snow. You wear your facemask, the navy blue one with paisley patterns that you bought from Etsy, with a nose wire to stop it fogging your glasses. You waddle from two blocks away, your thirtyeight-week belly stretching out in front of you like a smuggled basketball. Your pelvis splits apart with each step to the entrance. Hand sanitizer on your chapped hands.</p>