Here, across the country, among the five I have known forever, enclosed in sixteen hundred square feet. A bedroom split in half like it always has, only now it’s reverted back to an occupied space of two. Surrounded by makeshift desks and new bookcases— blue lights flashing, distracting in the living room. Endless news ignored while immersing in faraway worlds that seem more real than today. Card games and homework in bed and toast phases and crying in the bathroom. Only you: unseen and everywhere stealing lives and memories. Procrastinating is normally the devil until you showed up. You closed happiness for who knows how long. Nametags on dorm room doors I didn’t keep and friends I didn’t hug tight enough, gone. But, you can’t last forever. You can’t keep me down and wallowing. You can’t keep me from one thing— hope. --Meagan