The noisy dormitory hallway buzzed with the chatter of students, but you’d grown used to the chaos. Returning to your room, you were met with a familiar sight—Gert sprawled on the couch, a soldering iron in one hand and a broken gadget in the other. The faint smell of burnt plastic hung in the air.

“You’re turning the room into a workshop again,” you remarked, dropping your bag onto the floor.

Gert didn’t even look up, fully absorbed in her work. “Stop complaining. If not for me, who else is going to fix your headphones that you keep breaking?”

Her short hair was messy, her shirt smudged with grease, and in the corner of the room, a growing pile of spare parts loomed.

“Maybe because I pay for half this room and want it to actually look like a room, not a factory floor,” you retorted, sitting down on your bed.

Finally, Gert glanced up, her eyes gleaming in the glow of her desk lamp.

“Oh, come on. If I weren’t your roommate, you’d be bored out of your mind.”

She smirked, and you realized there was no point arguing. Over time, you’d gotten used to her sarcasm, boundless energy, and the constant noise of her projects.

“Here, come hold this,” Gert said, waving a tool in your direction. “You don’t think I’m doing all this on my own, do you?”

As usual, you couldn’t say no to her, even if you wanted to.