Rush Town
There was once a town in the middle of it all. It was a town made of expectations and filled with discouragement. After all, what is an expectation if not a wish earning to be met.
Inside of this town is what you would see in any other: people. The people would rush to work, rush to play, rush to learn, and rush back home. All the time rushing to the next meeting or appointment or errand on the list. What should a place like this do when the world stops?
The town was rushing, moving their feet and pushing down streets until little things changed rapidly. First packages were late, then delayed, then cancelled. Forecasts were given consistently, then daily, then weekly. News was factual, then pessimistic, then apocalyptic. What should the town do? They did what they knew and kept rushing. Soon the appointments they were rushing to were called off. The meetings they had scheduled were moved to virtual venues. The errands on the list could only be achieved through long lines and shrinking hours of operation. Soon people were only able to rush home, if they had one. If they could afford to not be rushed out of their homes. At home, they rushed to through their rooms, rushed to their computers, and rushed to their games. Some had children who rushed beside them, crashing into them every so often like electrons trapped in an atom. Everyone rushed, but had nowhere to go. Then the silence can and one-by-one, everyone stopped rushing. They sat. They listened to the quiet of streets that never sang the song of stillness before. They watched empty sidewalks and open highways entertain the sole company of ambulances and delivery trucks. They used whatever they had to see whomever they could. They got hobbies. They got laid-off. They got paid to stay home. They got told they were essential and had to come in anyway. But for the most fortunate of us, they got chance to do nothing at all.
