At around 1:00pm in the afternoon, I grab my backpack and decide to walk the 15 minutes or so that it will take me to get to my office by foot. It’s still the month of March, the lockdown has just been declared, and the streets are empty. The engine of an unseen motor vehicle tells me that we are not yet a ghost town. But we might as well be.
Through the greens of Americana, I witness yet again the foreign scene that has become so familiar over the past couple weeks: fountains dancing in the middle of the greens, surrounded by stores with doors closed shut. Tory Burch is closed. So is Tiffany’s. And David Yurman’s next to it. Katsuya has placed its chairs like barricades in front of the tables, as if protecting its turf from the visitors that do not exist.
Across, the Apple store seems like a sleek prison, with its crisp wooden tables and shiny tablets being held hostage behind a metal mesh zigzagging its massive windows. The clean, white Apple logo illuminates the facade, as if a religious icon keeping watch over this temple, an all-seeing eye guarding its ground while its faithful worship their devices in their own sanctuaries.
I make my way up Brand Boulevard. The Capital One Café is closed. Jersey Mike’s is open for takeout. The In-and-Out was open a couple days ago – I know because we picked up burgers; today, it too is closed.
I linger in front of Regent Coffee to read the notice on the front door. After days of consideration, it says, the management has decided to temporarily close.
I pass by Mini-Market on Brand, better known as the Armenian sisters’ shop. The sign on the right door says “Closed”, but the front door is open. I peek inside to say hi to Ms. Armine or Ms. Anahit, who are always happy to see me and never let me leave without fixing me a tuna sandwich and asking me how things are going in Armenia. The counter stands empty.
Francisco is on duty today at the office building. “Mr. Stepan, how are you today?” he embraces my presence in a cheerful tone with his signature baritone voice. “Hey Francisco, all good, how are you doing?” He comments that I’m not wearing a tie, “No meeting today?” “Not today, stopping in to pick up mail.” We both share that we seem to be in good health, express appreciation that that is the case, and remain several feet apart, just in case.
Heading back, I see that Carousel is open. Panera is also open, making that fact abundantly clear by covering all its windows with house-printed “OPEN” signs – one per window, in case anyone doubted. Both are for take-out and delivery, and both have the purple sign from City of Glendale, calling on residents to help out small businesses.
I reach home.
Chronicles 
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