The opening credits for the show are about to roll when Katie reaches over and grabs the remote to hit pause. "It's seven," she announces as she heads over to open the window, but even with it closed, I can already hear the cheers.
She stands on a little sturdy stool that she's placed by the window, and leans out while I stand behind her, both of us cheering and whistling. It's taken several days, but the whole street now seems to be getting in the spirit: some banging on pots and pans, some applauding and hooting, some whistling, those on the street itself honking horns as they drive (there may even be a vuvuzela somewhere in our block), all of us making some small contribution to try to keep everyone's spirits up, to acknowledge the people who work so hard while all the rest of us sit inside and try not to get sick.
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