My last walk from the not-so-secret parking spots on John J Hopkins Drive to meet my team at the tennis courts was completely unexpected, but somehow wholly appropriate. The angry, gray sky was threatening, but in a tangible way unlike the shroud of uncertainty that the virus had brought. The street that normally had me waiting at least half-an-hour for a parking spot was deserted, echoing the unsettling emptiness that was creeping onto campus.
The previous day, I took my very last final as a UC San Diego student. Our highly anticipated match-up against Azusa Pacific had been canceled for the second time because of the rain. Only a few hours later, our entire season, along with every other collegiate or professional season, would be indefinitely suspended.