A few weeks ago, my friend Robin stood halfway down my driveway, wearing her blue hospital scrubs. I perched on my front step, a good 16 feet away, clutching a box of N-95 masks I’d discovered in my basement. Our gazes met. Robin’s shoulders shook and her eyes filled with tears. Mine did, too. Robin was headed that morning to work as a nurse in a cardiac unit. She worried that her hospital would tell her to “float” and care for COVID-19 patients.