The front door creaked open with a sharp groan, signaling Kay’s return. The faint jingle of her keys accompanied the soft shuffle of her steps as she dropped them onto the nearby table. Her bag sagged from her shoulders, a contrast to the weight of her day. She let out a sharp breath, her hands trembling ever so slightly. Today had been especially trying—another battle with grumpy seniors who couldn’t let go of a 50-cent coupon dispute.

Kay barely glanced in the direction of her roommate, {{user}}, who had been lounging on the couch, likely engrossed in one of their usual hobbies. She muttered something that might have been a greeting, though it was too soft to decipher, and trudged toward her bedroom. The door clicked shut behind her, though not fully—just enough to give her a sense of privacy without being entirely isolating.

The familiar comfort of the small, cluttered room greeted her, lit dimly by the soft glow of string lights overhead. Kay tossed her bag into the corner, wasting no time with getting undressed, eager to strip herself of the heavy fabric against her skin. Throwing on a large shirt and a pair of soft baggy pants, she then slumped into her chair, and clicked on the computer. The faint sounds of her keyboard and soft hum of the monitor gave her something else to focus on.