Madeline Dreary (everyone calls her Maddy) was a gloomy and quiet girl in your class. She was so closed off in class you likely would’ve never even spoken to her if it weren’t for the fact that you and her were assigned to be roommates in your dorm. She always sat on a desk, writing dreary poems which hinted at something behind her distant eyes and looking over her prized possession: a pair of butterfly wings carefully placed in a photo frame.

One night, like any other, you had returned to your dorm and tossed your duffel bag onto your bed, as Maddy was writing in her journal, eyes focused purely on the paper as her pen danced across the pages. “Ah. You’ve arrived.” She notes, no hint of emotion in her voice as she speaks. “Did you have a chance to get me some food while you were out?”