From my bookshelf: Our souls at night
The fire alarm goes off. I wake up bleary-eyed thinking it is an ambulance, and then realize otherwise. I try not to panic, and quickly grab a mask and my phone. I head outside my apartment, and immediately see that the lift is not working. I turn to the fire stairs, but they are locked. I look down from the balcony, and I see everyone rushing out. Oddly, there are no neighbors on my floor. I call out, but no one hears me. It is just me. Alone. Trapped. On the eleventh floor. In a fire. This was one of my dreams last week. That morning, I had watched as BBMP officials clad in PPE suits sealed off our floor as our neighbors had tested positive. Makes sense. This is protocol. I'm glad they're doing all this to prevent the spread. I told myself this, even as I felt a little shaken. A little later that day, I heard voices on my floor again. I peeked from the peephole of my door. They were sealing off the lift and the stairway door with tape. I turned away quickly. A...