A couple weeks ago, when the Bay Area first announced its “shelter in place” order, I dutifully gathered books to read with my now-ample free time. How was I to know that by the beginning of April, I would spend my days frantically rubbing my three remaining brain cells together, buried by accumulating readings and term papers? Novels—out of the question. Now, short stories and poems are my bite-sized reprieves from a media diet of exponential graphs and doomsday subreddits.