Hibernator of the Ice Case

HASR (Ice Case Hibernator) types are strategists who pair bold hypotheses with the will to execute. On the first day of the lockdown, while everyone fights over the magazine corner and the eat-in space for a place to sleep, you discover a super-premium property no one had eyed. The ice case. Spacious. The lid closes. Soundproof. And in competition with no one. You moved in the same day.

There is, in fact, a certain logic to this call. A sealed space is highly secure, minimizes contact with others, and in an emergency surrounds you with food, in the form of ice. The theory was perfect. Apart from the temperature.

Living in prime real estate

HASR's pride is having secured the store's only "private room" by sheer merit. While other types sleep in a heap on the floor, you have privacy, silence, and room to roll over. When a companion visits, they knock on the glass of the case. Very civilized. Except that the civilized life is being conducted below freezing.

Just as planned

Cohabitation with your roommates (the popsicles) comes to an end on day 17. When a companion notices something is wrong and opens the lid, you say clearly, lips gone purple: "Just as planned." That was your final act of bravado. The coroner's findings and your last words are in direct contradiction. For the record, the position you'd taken was put to good use from the next day on for storing frozen food. Prime real estate was prime real estate.