Zoya Qureshi

Outside the door, I heard a flurry of thudding that reverberated back through the floor. I looked at my friend, then stepped in behind her. The room was damp and stuffy, despite a fan droning loudly in the corner. Six people were dispersed across the floor, weaving to their own rhythms. I was 18 and hadn’t been to a gym more than twice in my life; this was my first boxing class.

Max Hamilton found out that his roommate had been exposed to the coronavirus shortly after Thanksgiving. The dread set in, and then, so did her symptoms. Wanting to be cautious, she tested continuously, remaining masked in all common areas at home. But after three negative rapid tests in a row, she and Hamilton felt like the worst had passed. At the very least, they could chat safely across the kitchen table, right?Wrong.