I woke in a creek. A petri dish for the virus. The virus that had been washed downstream from other places. My feet sunk into slushy ground as I stood up and my eyes opened to a dark and foggy night. Street lights, the most visible thing, gazed eerily and cast a faint light on the pavement. The fog that had risen from the creek carrying the same virus was all-encompassing. I took a step into that dark night, onto the pavement and started running.

Nothing was there for my eyes to lay on, save the globes of light floating at even intervals along the pavement. The usual murmuring in the streets had been silenced. No car, no lawnmower, nor chatter could be heard in the night. As the pavement guided my legs, the world turned against me. Silhouetted trees stood tall, their bare and boundless arms reaching towards me. Humanoid figures I could not recognize glided away from me, as if I was the monster. I was alone on this run, quarantined.

Although there was a sense of uncertainty present, my legs moved in an unwavering rhythm. The stomp of my feet started as a metronome for the song of the night. Animals waking for spring joined in accompaniment. Frogs played a melodic croak, while a bird sang an uplifting flute solo. This tune created a spring harmony that saved me from the infected fog and the uncertainty of the future within the darkness. As our song played out and the pavement guided me, a house formed from the darkness. Suddenly, its garage door interrupted us like a tiger’s roar.

Fear struck and my feet halted for the first time on this pavement. I saw another shadowy figure emerge in the garage, though this one I could see more clearly. It was made of the infected fog. I remembered the imposed quarantine we lived in. In this realization I, too, became afraid of my fellow human. Slowly a light from inside the house gave form to this figure, and gave it a kind face. It kneeled down and smiled at its son, not over the age of four. The smell of barbecue chicken wafted into my nose, reminding me that we are all human. Comforted by knowing there are kind faces in this dark night I restarted my metronome for the song of the night. 

The path eventually led back to the creek where I had woken. Feeling sodden from the fog I stepped into the creek to rinse off. The water felt fresher, as if new water had replaced the tainted water from before. On my neck I felt a heavy drop of water. I looked around to hear those drops multiplying. Rain, washing away the fog , allowed repose. I laid down in that creek bed knowing that when I woke up the uncertainty of the night and the infection-bearing fog would be washed away by the falling rain and the rising sun.