The morning after the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention announced that fully vaccinated Americans could hedonistically head outside, unmasked, under most circumstances, I left my apartment with a certain set of expectations.

There would be no more KN95s, no more Liberty of London paisleys obscuring the faces of everyone else around. There would be sidewalk conversations that allowed you to hear the other person speaking. (“No, no; not Miley Cyrus. Cyrus VANCE.”) There would be the thrill of walking down the Brooklyn Promenade staring at the 26 messages from your pandemic text group without having your glasses fog up. Here, finally, was freedom.