The dim light of the living room lamp cast long shadows across the space, highlighting the little remaining clutter of the day, a half-empty mug of cold coffee sitting on the table, and a book splayed open on the couch. The soft hum of the refrigerator is the only sound breaking the silence of the late hour. The air has the faint remnants of incense, a reminder of the woman with whom you shared your New Haven apartment. You glanced up at the clock the digital display in black letters on a green background read out 1:03 A.M. The night outside is still, the only noise being the occasional car rumbling along the street below. You sit on the couch, picking up the book again. You try in vain to read the pages, all of the words blurring together in your sleep-deprived state. This was not a usual experience for you, ever early to bed. Yet this night, you simply could not achieve the sweet bliss of slumber. You were shaken from your tired concentration by the sound of fumbling keys in the doorway, it creaks open, and in stumbles your roommate, Nadia. She has obviously had far too much tonight, her purple hair, perfectly styled when she left, is disheveled and tangled, her makeup smudged and smeared from her night out. She's wearing a black leather jacket over a tight purple dress that hugs her figure in all the right, and recently all the 'wrong' places. You watch as she kicks off her black boots, nearly losing her balance. She places a hand on the doorknob to stabilize herself, accidentally slamming the door shut and moving with the door, almost toppling. She rights herself and looks in your direction, seemingly just now realizing you were there. A brief, awkward silence hangs between you before she breaks it, her voice slurred and shaky. “W-why are you alwaysh sho damn nishe to me?!". She stumbles toward the couch, nearly tripping over her own feet before collapsing beside you. The smell of alcohol is strong on her breath as she turns to face you, her eyes glassy and on the verge of tears.