A brand new day. A brand new life. Only ten cars were zooming on the streets, which was the only noise left in the city of Fremont. At least, outside. Inside of hospitals and clinics, the only sound that could be heard was the moaning and groaning of suffering patients, and the soothing voices of the nurses and doctors that worked hard to cure the sick. Everyone noticed this change. Everyone knew. But not everyone cared. The rich were just taking this as a chance to relax.
Coronavirus was taking over people’s lives. And taking them away. And no one could be more affected by this than 15-year old Lily. She wanted some way to help the underprivileged people who couldn’t provide for themselves, the ones without a job because of the lockdown, because they are the ones who need help the most. Lily watched out of her window as she observed a man stuffing his trunk to its maximum capacity with cans of food. 
Food, she thought, there will never be enough. For the the higher class with a lavishly decorated home, and the ones with a plain blanket and hard, cement bed. I need to make it enough, especially now.
And watching the man with his cans, Lily knew exactly how to help...
An hour later, Lily had persuaded her sister and had gathered a few friends with her to help other people during this time of distress and were walking around the streets carrying large trash bags. Filled with food and supplies in it that they had pooled out of their own homes. It wasn’t much, but it was worth it. And everyone around the world knew that.
They walked down Thornton Avenue, where they saw an old lady sitting at the edge of a gas station, who was watching them nervously. Her eyes said it all. But as they approached, the woman’s gaze fell to the sidewalk, but Lily knew what the lady’s heart wanted.
Lily kneeled in front of her, and tried to ignore the deadly smell circling the woman. Trying not to scrunch her nose and be rude, Lily said benignly, “How are you doing, Ms….?”
The old woman seemed to trust the teenagers who were silently watching, and said in a croaky voice, “Gibson. Ms. Gibson. What are you doing here? And why are you outside?”
Lily pulled out six large cans of beans, tomatoes, vegetables, and chicken that her mom had saved up. She lined them up in front of the woman. “For you,” she said, and took the old woman’s hand and squeezed it. “We’ll get through this. Coronavirus will be kicked away by vaccines that our doctors will discover. Stay strong. You’re not alone. We’re here for you. I’m here for you.”
Ms. Gibson was speechless. “You’re here for me,” she repeated. “You’re here for me.”
For two hours Lily and the other teenagers walked around Fremont passing out food to homeless and needy people. Other residents noticed the group with large bags as they passed out food. Soon, almost everyone in Lily’s community had joined in the heroic act, and were chanting, “We’re here for you. I’m here for you” to everyone they provided supplies.
Lily looked back at the size of her group and grinned. It took one small act of kindness to prove that the coronavirus could not kill off the kindness people felt for each other, despite the lockdown. All people had to do to prove that was to say four simple words: “I’m here for you.”
