I am startled awake by the sounds of laughing, of chatter and cars outside my window. At first, I can't believe my ears. I rub my sleep-crusted eyes and will myself fully awake, stealing a glance at my phone screen. My cat stirs and leaps lightly from my hip to the window, just as curious as I am.

It's 10:30, and I have about a million text notifications. Ignoring them, I open the door and step out onto my balcony. I really don't want to tackle the chore of responding to each one right now.

I hadn't dreamt it. There really are people out there, not wearing masks and certainly not six feet apart. It takes a moment for the implication of what I'm seeing to sink in.

Are we finally free? It seems so.

No more deafening silence or hours spent pacing the apartment. No more isolation. Best of all, no more of the phrase "social distancing."

I shake my husband gently by the shoulder, excited to tell him the great news. As he regains consciousness, he hears it, too.

"No fucking way. Really?! It's really happening. You're serious?"

He jumps up, not running to the window like I expected but hurrying to turn on the TV instead. Watching the news. I expect that the president will be holding a conference on the matter, and I'm right.

"Finally, this whole mess is over. The crisis has passed, and you know, that's all thanks to me."

Ugh. Of course, but whatever. He can't spoil my mood as long as I get to see the sun again.

"I got us vaccines, I said to China, I said, 'China, this is all your fault and we made vaccines first but... you know.. you can't, you can-- can't have em.'" Bummer, but did anyone expect anything different?

He continues with his speech.

"And I said to Russia, 'you can't have em either; I think you're gonna steal our secrets and I can't let you do that. Tell you what -- get rid of your nukes and I'll give you a cure, kay?'"

What the hell is he on about?

I feel the stirrings of unease in the pit of my stomach. The other world superpowers have just been provoked yet again, and they're all just itching for another war. They've all had plenty of time to stew and plot when the world came to a standstill.

I'm not smiling anymore. Neither is my husband. We just stare at each other for a few minutes.

"Well, he does this all the time, doesn't he? This isn't anything new," he says, but the words just don't feel true.

As the day wears on, we shake it off. We're used to it by now. We do our special ritual, the one where we pick up food at a restaurant and sit in the car to eat, listening to music and talking about life. It calms me. We decide to stop by the beach for a while to watch the sunset.

But as the moment comes, as the bright orange flame is halfway beyond the horizon, another bright object lights up the sky. Everyone stares at it, watches it approach... and then the screaming begins.

It's the end, all right, and we've jumped out of the frying pan into the fire.

Every night would be the same monotonous routine: take off my scrubs in the garage, shower, eat my leftovers, and kiss my baby goodnight. This was my routine for the past several months during the brutal SARS outbreak. Tomorrow the world reopens, and the social distancing restrictions will be lifted. Tomorrow we will be free.

Little did I know I would do anything to rewind the clock; to be a prisoner of the virus for even just one more day. I do not want this to be over. Working endless hours in the ICU gave me a sense of purpose again. It reminded me why I became a doctor. Why I made so many sacrifices for this career.

Tomorrow my baby girl will live her first day outside of captivity, but I won’t be there to celebrate with her. I won’t see her first steps, hear her first words, or even be there for her first heartbreak. I’ll be in the hospital.

Don’t get me wrong. I love being a doctor, but SARS has made me realize that some sacrifices just aren’t worth it.

I was caring for a sick patient last night. He tested negative for SARS, and with the new vaccine coming out and our shortage of masks; I took one for the team. He didn’t seem very ill at first; just a light cough and a low-grade fever. I saw him without any protective gear, confident it was merely a head cold, but he coughed directly into my face.

That patient died this morning on a ventilator with an undiagnosed illness unrelated to SARS. I thought I finally made it into the clear. I thought my life would return to normal. I wish I wore that damn mask. I wish I took that simple precaution.

Annie when you’re ready for this, your mother will give you this letter so you can know your father died a preventable, but noble death. I write you this from my quarantined room in the same ICU I worked at for the past several months fighting to save others from SARS. I am almost certain death is imminent. I can feel my body withering away as I write this. Please Annie, don’t take your freedom for granted. Remember those who died to give you it.

As of November 2020, approximately 80% of the population aged 65+ has been wiped out, and the new wave of COVID-20 has taken its toll 60% of those in the 35+ crowd.

At first, us younger Generation Z kids were joking, calling the virus "Boomer Remover" and intentionally breaking lockdown laws to be asymptomatic carriers. When our grandparents died, we shrugged it off as something long overdue. When some of our parents died, many of us released from abusive households (or, are nihilistic enough to fake it) and held mass celebrations in the streets. Of course, no one laughed when our own friends and siblings got sick, but we still spent all day procrastinating on "long-distance education" by being on our phones and watching TV. (After all, who was here to tell us to get off our devices now?) Many of us were deemed immune to the coronavirus and made it a new method of flexing to others.

It was when the quarantine was lifted, at the beginning of 2021, when we realized just how much of a YA novel everything had become.

:):):)

I got ready for "physical" school, the first time I would be going out in a year. In fits of boredom I had chopped off the majority of my hair and dyed it with extra colors I found behind the bathroom mirror. I didn't even bother to cover it up, knowing full well that everyone else would look like a nuclear bomb had dropped in the nearby DC and we were all facing acute radiation syndrome. Since it is basically the apocalypse (just not that kind), I decided to find an outfit that would reflect that (I'll leave it up to your imagination to guess which TikTok elements I included). I even had a military-grade gas mask my dad left us to go with it.

On that note, half of my family is isolating themselves in the attic. The other half was buried in the basement. (I'll also let you guess which parents is where, since both haven't talked to me in months anyway.)

My brother's clothes also looked like they had survived a zombie outbreak, and his shaved head really brought out the dark circles around his eyes. While we had actually slept well, the sheer thought of having to go back to school made the two of us lose all of the energy we had been getting back.

We walked outside to find the last of the returning wildlife to be chased back by us and a few other high school students. The deer and foxes probably spent so much time realizing that we were actually off the streets for them to reclaim their land, only for some neon-haired humans to come back and kick them out again. Had it not been for the tinted glasses on my mask, we would have been practically hissing at the sunlight.

I found some of my friends with matching bleached heads and jewelry made from random household objects, ranging from USB drives to mini hand sanitizers to doll parts. Even my brother's friends had tried piercing their ears to wear Juul pod earrings (only some were truly successful). Some had also done stick-and-pokes or slitting their eyebrows (again, a maximum 50% success rate with each of these, but no one cared).

When we all made it to the bus stop, we found a lot less people waiting than expected. "Well, more room for us, right?" I ignored my brother when I saw that the bus driver had also been switched out for someone else. There had to be about ten of us, counting myself.

The drive was quiet for more reasons than just there being less noisy students.

I heard someone whisper "hey" to me from behind. I turned around. It was some freshman girl with a brimless hat and uneven bangs. "Are you, you know... immune?"

I shrugged. "I only got tested for 19, but probably for both, yeah."

"Okay, cool. I like your hair and mask, it's really alternative."

"Thanks. Uh, I like your hat. Yankee with no brim, right?"

I could see her face become a grin from under her medical mask and smiled back.

:):):)

Each of my classes only had around ten students, half of what I was used to. Many of our teachers were still communicating via online conferences or substitutes out of the fear of one of us being a carrier without knowing. In a way, the bright colors were wore now represented our toxicity like animals do. "Get away, we have corona-venom!" Our patchwork styles screamed.

I had brought my own lunch to avoid cross-contamination in school food, but saluted the lunch ladies for having to deal with people saying that their isolation struggle-meals at home were better than this. Almost subconsciously, most of us sat one or two per table, at least six feet apart.

Being an American public school, it didn't take long for the unregulated cafeteria (maybe the monitors were dead like many hoped) to witness another fight.

"This bitch got corona!" "Shut the hell up, it's YOU that's got it!" Two boys who look like they also failed their online classes were circling in the center of the room as people shouted.

"Woah, hold up!" They stopped each other from getting physical when my brother began yelling at them. "You'll both catch it if y'all catch hands. So, just break it up?"

They seemed to think about it for a few seconds. Then, one tackled the other and the lunch ladies had to pull them apart. No one could stop laughing.

:):):)

Sometimes, I write funny conversations in a small notebook I carry around for writing inspiration. Many of us hadn't seen each other in so long, and had very emotional exchanges with our teachers too. Here were some of that day's other entries:

"[Teacher], if you pass that test to me, I'll pass this virus to you."

"Well, [student], then I'll guess you'll get a zero for this quiz. I know you don't have any kind of COVID."

"That's better than what CollegeBoard gave me. I mean, my grandparents die and they pull up with a score of negative one on my AP World exam?"

"I don't know how you did that..."

"Me neither, the f***!"

"Since basically everyone running for president died or is sick, who are you voting for?"

"It's got to be Obama, he can fix everything like Flex Tape."

"Naw, he can't run again."

"In this economy? He can, and should."

"I miss [student] so much, I hope he's doing okay down there."

"I'm not dead! Wait, and does that mean I would be in hell?"

"Sometimes I think I can still hear his voice..."

"I did it: I went through quarantine without watching Friends or The Office."

"Really? And I didn't watch One Piece you weebass-"

:):):)

So overall, not having human interactions for the past 14 months made all of our speech devolve into memes and arguments. The future is bright in our hands, right?

Still, the anxiety is almost tangible. Not all of our classmates died from the virus itself: many committed suicide out of fear, and us having not been there for them was a heavy burden. There was even a certain emptiness from not hearing a certain teacher dress-code someone or take away their phones. It's all jokes until we are left with our thoughts for too long.

All we have now is each other and our twisted morally-grey minds, and a few adults still locked away. All we can do now is go forward and learn from what the virus left behind.

(That being said, first act of business: eat the rich. Apparently, a few unnamed billionares are still out there on private islands, and we can get a few boats...)

I have forgotten what the beach tastes like at the roof of my tongue

as I inhale the ocean in all her might.

I have forgotten what it feels like to have sand sprinkled on my toes

I don’t remember what the rain smells like anymore.

I had a dry cough the day we entered partial lockdown.

On the nights when I couldn’t sleep,

I watched the apartment lights glow like constellations after midnight.

I think no one slept that night.

I watched siblings quarrel in the apartment across the swimming pool

and a couple have dinner in their balcony.

We always complained of the glass doors

And their apparent lack of privacy.

Not today.

Today, it’s the reason I’m getting through the night.

My hands fumble in the dark for anything that tastes like daylight.

My skin starts to crave the touch of sunrise at midnight.

My breath holds herself to the moonlight.

And my lungs collapse into herself every night.

And when 2020 becomes synonomous to Murphy’s law,

I remind myself;

I think when we finally open our doors,

the first batch of air will feel like the calm after the storm

that settles the soot into the creases of our palms like a bad memory.

I think when it’s finally over,

and the tattered woodboards and the glass shards collect in our driveway,

our palms will grip the steering wheel in terror,

watching the past kick up ash in her wake through the rear view mirror,

leaving traces of her storm like the weather;

I think when we finally touch the streets and

let the windows down,

the first touch of sunrise will feel like a new decade after a nightstorm.

Our eyes will bathe in the weekend sun,

in light of

a bad run.

I think when we can finally dance barefoot in the forest and let the grass cuddle our bellies as we rest with our ears to the dirt

and whisper apologies to Earth,

I think she’d tell us we are a decade too late,

and I think we will hear her bloom in unimaginable ways.

And maybe if we are deemed worthy enough,

our hands will erase damage from muscle memory,

And maybe if we still remember to hold each other to the light,

the fog lights will lead us back home at night.

The sun is shining, cake's been made;

today's the day we celebrate!

There's cards, some odd gifts- in we'll stay-

no one's allowed; stay home, stay safe.

You're young and healthy, so you feel

this isolation is surreal

and wish for just one day we'd yield,

but we must bear the heavy shield.

Despite our vigilance, we'll try

to have some fun, so please don't cry;

we love you, baby girl confined

and all just want to see you smile.

Perhaps someday you might regale

this crazy, plague-filled lonely tale

to kids and grandkids when you're frail-

please recall ev'ry sweet detail...

your Sweet 16 in quarantine.

*wrote for my baby girl today, who is celebrating under quarantine. The photo was taken during the first responder drive-by.

Tavistock Road overflows with people, more people than live on the street. Mr and Mrs Hayes have set up games of hoopla, coconut toss and races down the road. Mrs Strawn has baked more shortbreads than Maggie could count.

She hesitates but with a smile from Mum makes her way out. Her cupcakes have smiles on, drawn on with too much icing.

She holds out the box and says her rehearsed line, “Happy end of quarantine!”

Mx Bradwell and Ms Reydon take them with warm smiles, the same response most give her until only 5 cupcakes remain.

She reaches a small group with Mr Pritchard, the Mallory brothers and Miss Finch. Mr Pritchard looks at the box. The cupcakes are clustered together, their icing beginning to melt.

“Oh no, can’t take those,” he says. “Social distancing, remember? Those cupcakes are just too close.”

Her smile wavers, as do the other neighbours.

Yes, we do remember.

I didn’t remember the warmth of the sun.

The song of the birds; the caress of the wind; the fragrance of the air.

Like a wave, it crashes through us: Leaves us drenched in its immensity.

Its beauty.

Slowly, normal life resumes.

I don’t remember the warmth of the sun.

When the world started moving I had a feeling it didn't seem like hope or relief. It was like a sick feeling inside my heart. I put my feet on the wooden floor, the cold crept into my body. I sat there not knowing what to do. I expected to hear the sirens of ambulences, as I did these all these months. Now I could only hear the faint tick of the old wall clock.

I glanced at it but could not recognize the time as it was thick with dust. Then I heard people shouting and laughin. A part of me wanted to join in and anthor just wanted to stay in my cocoon. Then I heard a loud rap on my door. It sounded so odd as it had been months since I experienced it. I slowly heaved myself up wards. I slowly walked towards the door, wondering " Was it safe?" I slowly twisted the door knob. It creaked so loud that I jumped in my tracks. When I finally opened it, I stared. I stared into the space that once contained a happy family. A woman a man and a little girl. All that was the man and the memories of the lost ones.

I put my feet on the floor and the rapping started to get louder, almost deafening.

As I walked past several rooms with nothing but the shadows arising...

As I grew nearer to the door my heart started thumping. I slowly walked forward. The palms of my hands slick with sweat. I turned the knob to find my neighbo. She shouted " Come join the fun." I looked behind here. There it was. The sunlight so bright I shielded my eyes. The grass so pure so green. I walked more and more. I couldn't believe it. Was this where I lived?

I looked around, ponds that used to hold garbage was now crystal clear with fish bobbing up and down. Flowers bloomed in one's sight. Nature had taken back itself. The world finally looked like something god had created, not something we wasted.

Sunddenly a warm feeling came over me, the world hadn't brought injustice to me, it had just given us what nature was feeling all those years.

I will always cling onto the fact that these diseases took me from my loved ones, but I will always remember it was I who took the Nature from our earth.

Just like the Phoenix, we will rise again.

A new race reborn from the ashes and the dust we left behind. We will fill up the cities of ghosts, but instead of living and loving, we will mostly fear.

No doubt the wontons will wear glorious wigs to show off their wonderfully full lives. The wigs are just shields that use admiration as a defense against the horrible unknown. But the heardys won’t be afraid to look with terror-filled eyes, and instead of wigs they will turn to prayer to save them from the newly-reminded death sentence.

See, it’s hard to be immortal,

when you are truly,

wholly,

human.

Destruction. All I see around me is destruction- buildings are bare and broken down, trash and glass litters the streets, the dead are seen on the ground like a gum wrapper nobody cared about. Every trace of a rational civilization that we used to call home is nowhere to be seen.

Phones don't work anymore, SARS-CoV-2 took care of all of the workers. The government no longer exists, they gave up before we were forced into hiding. Money no longer has any value due to the economy ceasing to exist. Now it's a barter system- is your pack of fruit rollups worthy of that persons jacket? Everything had new value, and food from before the illness was priceless to many.

Trust is something that is priceless now, and not many are given it. It doesn't matter anymore who you have a crush on, or that petty secret you were keeping from your parents. Now trust means who can you rely on to protect you while sleeping, or who won't take your food and water while you're gathering more supplies. Who can you trust to not steal your shelter from you while you're looking for more survivors? Who can you trust with your weapons and other precious belongings? Trust has become the newest, most precious form of currency.

Upon emerging from our small shelter, there was silence. The small community within my shelter discovered exactly what the five of us had been discussing for months. No hospitals, no other survivors for miles around, and little to no resources in what's left of the local shops. The air reeked of death after months of the bodies being left to decay. The home we had once known was now torn to its bare bones, with no trace of what it had been. The society we had known before the illness no longer existed, and instead left behind a barren land of chaos and despair.

Now it's up to us to rebuild our society that was mercilessly ripped from our grasps. It's up to us to take back our lives from SARS-CoV-2. And today is the day we begin that journey.