By Avery Woodworth '22

The sun was radiant one Wednesday afternoon for a reason, although I didn’t know the reason for a while. The short blades of grass and the blooming hydrangeas planted beneath the window of my father’s office danced in the gentle breeze, and the flitting birds had a cheerful, even jubilant note in their songs.

By Jordan Liu '20

A couple of houses down the street, an overworked garage door groans, and out of the garage barrels a crusty red Toyota Camry. Though the windshield is stained with yellow pollen, it is clear that the driver is wearing a white cloth face mask and purple latex gloves. Hardly a surprise.

By Norelisa Nascimento '20

If I could, I would set up sixty-eight more chairs for each of my senior classmates. I try to stay hopeful for the day I get to hug all of them again, which seems like a heartwarming dream. With every stir, the embers come back to life. Don’t let the fire die.

By Jack Ramsay '20

The ZipChip feels like a soft hug around my gloved finger, and as I release it I’m generously offering the hug to my friend’s gloved finger, and he continues the train of affection to the next receiver. It’s a sanitary expression of longing and recognition.

By Callie Morgan '20

Whatever the reason, I always felt the need to multitask. I passed the time listening to a podcast for history class or FaceTiming a friend, AirPods always in, head always down. It felt wrong to be without my phone this time, but I knew that we needed some time apart, so I persevered.