December Sweeps - Day 306

Time and energy enough to do my exercise (but not write, NEVER write!).

Sit-ups Today: 111
Sit-ups In December: 291

Okay, okay, maybe I'll write something.  There was a guy named Cameron who used to be a big fan of the Dunesteef, and he would put on his own Broken Mirror Story Contests, first on a website he maintained, and now, at a college he's at.  He sent me a notice for another one the school is doing (open only to people associate with the college, unfortunately), and the premise for this one is:

When the smoke cleared, what was left?

I appreciated him sending me the announcement (and the prompt), and I honestly would've written something for the contest, had it been open to everybody.  But then I thought, what the hey, I have to write today anyway.  Maybe I'll try to do something with "When the smoke cleared, what was left?"

So, I sat down and started writing, not knowing where it was going, and didn't get far.  But it was far enough.

Words Today: 424
Words In December: 1085

Roger looks . . . okay

So, in just about every zombie movie ever made (and about a quarter of vampire movies), there's a moment where one of the characters gets bitten or infected . . . and decides to keep it a secret from the rest of the characters.  Every time we see this, we yell at the screen, trying to understand why somebody would do such a selfish, illogical, dangerous thing.

But I think I get it now.

You see, I was starting to feel a lot better yesterday, even going as far as doing a hundred sit-ups and a hundred and one push-ups.  But then, this morning, as soon as I woke up, I felt terrible again.  But I had to go about my day as best I could, working through it once I'd taken my temperature and seen that I didn't have a fever (one of the most tell-tale symptoms of the pandemic).

But then, I made myself some soup and took a bite . . . and tasted nothing.  It was like how you hear when you've stuffed your ears with cotton, only I'd stuffed my mouth full of it.  Loss of sense of smell and taste is the other tell-tale symptom of the pandemic.  And I grabbed the little pine tree air freshener from my car and held it right up to my nostrils to see if--

Nothing.  No smell at all.

Oh no.  

I can't have the Coronavirus.  I have so few friends or social outlets, and I wear my mask, and social distance . . . I'm too young to die!  

And my first inclination was not to tell anybody, to keep it a secret, to try and ignore these symptoms and see if I could, I dunno, get away with stuff, at least until I'm well across state lines and there's no way the mob will find me once they discover their money's gone.

Zombie movies.  Who knew?