Cramped Quarters - Love Under Lockdown

The apartment stood empty and quiet. Rachel must have still been asleep, leaving me functionally alone in the apartment. It was one of the few advantages to getting up as early as I did, despite the lack of sleep the night before. I worked it out once and on a good night I got maybe five hours of sleep. Three hours was more of my norm.

I generally liked being around people, but it was also nice to be alone. Not only in the crowd, but seemingly in the world. The apocalyptic, last person in the world feeling held a certain appeal for me.

Most of what I knew would be gone, yes. There were lots of people I would miss, but there was also great potential, at least at the beginning.

I couldn’t deny I enjoyed being alone thanks to the quarantine. With us being locked down and Rachel avoiding me like I was already infected, I was getting the chance to live the dream. Albeit in a limited and controlled environment. Like people who enjoy pain during sex but only do it with a trusted partner in the context of a scene. Where they know everything is safe and there are painkillers, ointments and cuddly blankets close by.

The pan was still on the stove when I got there. Subtle evidence of cooking was present in the lovely kitchen. Either Rachel had the same penchant for nighttime snacking as Amelia did, or she was doing her best to avoid me, waking up before most sane people would and dashing away like a fawn at the first sign of potential trouble. Either way, it was kind of cute.

Trying to keep things quiet, in case the princess had returned to slumber land, I pulled together my closest approximation of a full English breakfast. I’d had people ask how I stayed so lean. Few of them fully comprehended the full effects of stress.

Filling up on fried and toasted goodness, I washed my dishes as well as the pan and set my mind to more immediate matters. I returned to my quarters, to begin work on the labors of the day.

The administration had made good on their promise to put most of the classes online. The more practical ones like Chemistry and Landscaping had to be done with limited class-time. Everyone had to be at least six feet apart and wearing a mask or face-shield the second they were out of their dorms. Cameras had been installed at the end of each corridor to enforce the issue.

Part of the film course going on was a continuation of the in-class discussions. A feat achieved by the imposition of a class forum, where students could post and reply to comments. Everyone had to post a minimum of three comments per film we watched. Those who did ten got five bonus marks.

The only catch was that every one of the comments had to be relevant to the overall discussion as decided by the instructor. An element that made sure everyone paid really close attention to get everything they possibly could.

Most of what I would say was already in the notes I gave to Rachel. Scorpio and Fingered were the first two films in the initial section on ‘transgressive cinema.’ Personally, I would have started with 1947’s Fireworks.

It was reputed as one of the very first films to openly break societal taboos, particularly around sex and sexuality. That was something that Anger could have literally been arrested for at the time. Not in the least because he was gay, which was still listed in the DSM as a mental illness back then. My best guess was that the instructor was going more for the artistic angle rather than social themes, though.

I wasn’t looking for her. At least not consciously. Yet, as though steered by forces from above, or below, my attention wandered to Rachel’s posts. Or, rather, to the lack thereof.

She seemed to be struggling to get to the minimum number, let alone the ten required for bonus points. It was likely that she had fallen into the age-old trap of assuming that, because it superficially involved watching movies all day, Film Studies was easy.

Nothing could be further than the truth. Film was an art form like any other and as with English Lit and, to a degree, deeper forms of History, required a lot of very precise analysis, at least if it was going to be done properly and there were, of course, disagreements about which interpretations were best. Some people went so far as to contend that even what the filmmaker said they meant wasn’t the final word.

I hadn’t really interacted with most of my classmates. At least not in a meaningful way, outside of Rachel, at first, of course. Yet, there they were. Roughly a dozen replies to my posted comments asking if they could chat with me.