The thermometer display read 38 degrees Celsius.
"I have a fever."
That was the thought that came to my mind. I stopped breathing for a moment.
I had routinely been taking my temperature since the news of the local transmission of COVID-19 came out. I checked my temperature when I woke up and I checked it again before going to bed. The readings always ranged between 36.5 to 36.8 degrees Celsius. Every time I waited for the beep from the thermometer signaling the end of its inspection, a knot built up in my abdomen.
When I saw today's reading, the knot stayed and magnified. Beads of sweat started to form on my fore head.
"I am sick," I thought to myself.
"What was the COVID-19 hotline?"
"Should I call them first or tell my parents?"
The internal debate must have lasted a minute but our minds play tricks on us and it felt like an eternity.
I decided to take my temperature again. I covered my eyes first, a trick that I have learned as a child but still relied on when I was watching a scary movie but I was too curious not to look. I peeped through my fingers and read the numbers on the thermometer.
"36.5"