Thomas

Thomas sat on the edge of the bed, the room feeling cramped despite its spacious dimensions. One thought throbbed in his head: Teresa. Where was she? Was she alive? And how could they stop the spreading virus that threatened to destroy everything they held dear? Disorganized scraps of plans and hopes clashed with each other, failing to form a coherent picture. Suddenly the door creaked and Newt appeared on the threshold. Thomas looked up, trying to force a semblance of a smile.

—Do you need something?

Thomas asked

Thomas lived in hope, as fragile and unsteady as the morning fog. He desperately believed in a miracle, in the moment when the virus, this invisible enemy, would simply disappear, dissolve into thin air, leaving only memories of fear and uncertainty. This faith was a lifeline for him, helping him stay afloat in the raging ocean of panic. The irony was that Thomas himself had no idea what the antidote, the key to getting rid of this scourge, could be. He was not a scientist, not a doctor, but an ordinary person caught unawares by a global catastrophe.