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Their alarm roused them at 1:30pm. This is their last day.
I know because I'm the reason they're going to die. Covid, they call me. I've been watching over this person for a long time now. Usually, I would move on to another person rather quickly, infecting more and more people. But something about this person was different. I don't know what and I doubt I ever will but that doesn't really matter.
Through them I hear many stories, sad stories, happy stories, stories of love, stories of death. Every kind of story because this person is always reading. Well, almost always. However, they're too weak to read now. Very well, I've made up my mind. I will tell them a story, my story.
A long, long time ago in a land far away–well maybe not that far away–there lived a…well, I'm not really sure what I am. But I once had a friend who was like me. Yellow Fever, that's what people called them. Well, people still call them that, I suppose.
We were the best of friends though our friendship didn't make much sense. I mean they were unreasonably sad and I was unreasonably happy. Opposites really do attract. We were content with our lives or at least I was. One day they met this human, Polly, or at least I think that's what her name was. Everyday they would tell me how much they loved her. It never made sense to me. I mean loving a human who will die soon because of you. To be honest, I was jealous of Polly. I had known Yellow Fever way longer than her and we met everyday by the dirty water at the river to hang out.
One day, Yellow Fever didn’t come. I went to find them but it was too late. Polly was dead and Yellow fever had died with her. I was upset and for a while I just slept. Eventually my sadness turned into rage. I didn't yet understand that it wasn't Polly’s fault. So I blamed her and, by default, all humans. I went on a rampage killing millions of people.
The first person I infected was an urchin who spent all day scavenging abandoned houses for anything salvageable with his friends.Then, when he went home, I infected his kin eventually killing them all. Next, I infected a dignified man who was droning on and on about the impudence of a kid for swooning over his daughter as he was walking around a market teeming with people selling victuals. I infected a guy selling mutton for an exorbitant price. I then infected a robust woman with a melodious voice who was singing an improvised song about a young woman discreetly getting revenge on her spiteful ex-boyfriend. After she finished her song, a gaunt man with an ominous look on his face appeared brandishing a large knife. She cowered in fear as the vile man approached. Obviously, I infected the man. I mean he clearly deserved it. I stuck around for a while and relished in his pain as I slowly killed him. He riled up my rage even more and I began infecting people faster and faster.
Until the day I met you, I infected you. After listening to the stories you fervently told and the books you read with enthusiasm my anger abetted. You were a placid person. No matter what happened, you stayed calm. Even when you were prohibited from going outside due to the quarantine. You read stories of peace and eventually I conceded that I was wrong.
Killing people wouldn't bring my friend back and honestly they would have been so disappointed in me. Wait a second, now that I think about it, Yellow Fever killed a lot of people too. Maybe I thought too highly of them. Or maybe it's just in our nature to kill. Maybe there's nothing we can do about it. I hope one day someone will find a way to stop things like us.
I look over at the clock, it's now 2:10pm and they are at the end of their story and in that moment I realize that it's the end of my story too. As they draw their last breath, so do I and in their last moment I apologize for killing them and thank them for making me realize that I was wrong. Just before everything went dark I swear I hear them say “you may never be forgiven but you will eventually be forgotten”
THE END