The following fable is dedicated to all who think they know better.

Fhilippe felt ready, for it had been two weeks since the Bell of Libertee had rung, and he decided it was now his time to join the rest of the free world.

It was his first day back at the office.

Fhilippe fit himself joyfully through the doors of the ever so serious building, where, even though his job had remained anxious for him to get back, his fellow office folk, led furiously by Phaedruh, showed indignation upon his arrival.

They were pissed that it had taken him this long.

Fhilippe filled his mates in on how he’d spent two weeks in the hospital under intense treatment against everyone’s biggest fear but ended up being told it had been a common cold from an excess of exposure to his ceiling fan.

It was a bold and risky lie.

Fhilippe found himself confused at his workmates’ sudden change of attitude, where he expected a tinge or embarrassment with no further questions yet saw a room of relief and a blessing.

They had feared the worst of him.

Phaedruh put forth her hand upon Fhilippe’s, requesting the handshake of a man who’d moved past his one fatal flaw in the face of a global phenomenon.

It was a premature conclusion.

Phaedruh pressed on the handshake amid cheers but soon sensed a tiny tingle, so she pulled up her hand within sight and gasped at the foul rash which her fellow work folk, except for Fhilippe of course, recognized well enough.

They knew then and there that she was doomed.

Phaedruh plunged in an instant and froze, with no one but Fhilippe surprised as her skin turned to scales, her blood became crystals, and a bitter last breath blew her body to dust.

It was a horrific sight for the office folk.

Phaedruh passed away, and as most of Fhilippe’s former buddies began to turn away to fulfill their job duties, four of them looked right at his eyes as they reached for the nearest phone.

They called the police.

Yes, Fhilippe the Anxious had broken the law,

For he hadn’t been out there with everyone else.

The Bell of Libertee did free all the folk,

But they found out thereafter that something was wrong.

An isolated human becomes poison to the rest,

So direct contact is deadly at first.

A week or two of being with others is enough,

And then handshakes and hugs can be dealt with once more.

No, Fhilippe the Cautious wasn’t ready for his workmates,

For they were ahead of him, no longer a threat,

And he’d spent two weeks in his home all alone.

He had thought of the risk of a second outbreak,

For he knew that everyone would be out at once,

And decided to stay behind until he felt safe.

So, Fhilippe the Selfish heard not of the touch bans,

And the fate of Phaedruh fell into his hands.