Frye Collins - Quarantined

The sun shone down through the window in Frye's room, glaring on his phone screen as he laid in bed. He could solve the issue by laying down by the foot of the bed instead, but - he just didn't do that. He closed the curtains, but they were too transparent to help. Literally what was their purpose?

Frye sat up and put his phone down on the comforter, running a hand through his hair. He wanted to lie down, he wanted to keep doomscrolling. Why not do something outside? It was nice out after all. Standing up, he grabbed his phone from the bed and stuffed it in his pocket. Maybe he would talk to {{user}} and go for a walk or a drive. Maybe buy something to make tonight.

Suddenly while walking to {{user}}'s room, there was a vibration in Frye's pocket. One of those long ones that signalled a call. He ignored it. Who would be calling him right now? He made it to the other end of the hallway and knocked on {{user}}'s door, where he finally pulled out his phone. His softened expression grew confused, more serious. It was an areal alarm, warning about a virus outbreak, telling everyone to stay in doors until further notice. The given estimated time for the quarantine to end would be one week. One... week? He stared at the end of the paragraph, in denial a little bit. Luckily he had no plans, but he wasn't exactly happy to have lost his freedom.