OFFICE OF THE PRESIDENT – As we relayed to you in our last email, the recent spike in cases of COVID-19, which has been particularly pronounced in the DC area, means that the availability of rooms in the Georgetown hotel is extremely limited, and many students may have to quarantine two to a room. Furthermore, if capacity is exceeded even further, we may have to resort to even more… intimate accommodations.

What’s that? You’ve tested positive? Oh no! We’ll have to get you a room to quarantine in. Let me just go ahead and check what rooms we have available…

I’m very sorry, sir, but it seems there has been a mix-up. A fellow student of yours has also tested positive, a Mr. Chas Witherington, and – well, this is most embarrassing – we only have one room left, and I’m afraid it only has one bed. It seems you may have to share.

What’s that? You know Mr. Witherington? In fact, you are both suitors for the affections of the same young woman, and have been engaged in a series of confrontations that have ended with you two in each other’s faces, practically breathing the same air? Oh, my. I think I can see how this is going to play out.

You get to the room, and you both volunteer to sleep on the couch, of course, because you don’t want to sleep in the same bed as the other. But of course, neither of you can allow the other man to put you in his debt by taking the less comfortable arrangement, so you both keep insisting that the other takes the bed, until it is clear that neither of you – proud, strong-willed young men that you are – will budge, and you are both forced to sleep in the bed. During this argument, though, you keep catching yourself staring at Mr. Witherington’s lips, then immediately looking at the ground, flustered. You decide that you’ll just have to stick to one side of the bed, which seems far too small to be the queen-sized bed the hotel claimed it was.

It won’t be that simple, though. During the night, you get nightmares – a product of your devastatingly tragic backstory. You jolt awake with a yell, drenched in sweat, telling yourself that it’s over, the trauma is past you. But then, before you know it, Mr. Witherington is at your side offering a glass of water and a cool towel. His expression is hard to decipher, but as you thank him he gives you the lightest touch on the shoulder, so light it could have easily been incidental, but you know, deep down, that it wasn’t. When your breathing returns to normal, you turn off the light and go back to sleep.

You sleep peacefully this time, no nightmares for the first time in what seems like forever, at least since that tragic incident. When you wake you briefly wonder what caused such a peaceful sleep, why you felt so safe. Then, you look down, and you realize that, in the night – perhaps even subconsciously, in his sleep – Mr. Witherington has put his arms around you, in a gesture of protectiveness. You’re initially shocked, but then, realizing how safe Mr. Witherington makes you feel, you settle in, gently lay your hand over his, and pull him in closer.

Then, when you both wake up, you fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

With my profound gratitude.

Sincerely,

John J. DeGioia