roommate

A goofy smile spread over the Denise the RA’s face, “You know your new roommate just tried to meet you.”

“Really?” I asked, confused.
“Yeah, he’s from Spain and hardly speaks any English. He said he knocked on the door but your music was up and you probably didn’t hear him. He came back down here and said that he thinks his roommate hates him and that he’s spending the night with a friend in Mahoney.”

“Really?” I asked stupidly. “Wow. Talk about first impressions.”

Denise’s snicker escorted me back to the elevators. I had gone downstairs to ask for toilet paper and didn’t expect to be told I had unknowingly offended my new roommate. “Oh well,” I thought clutching the toilet paper and walking towards my dorm, “at least I can go potty now… which is surely more important.”

The next day I woke up around noon and skipped over to the gym. While swaying on the elliptical machine I tried to picture my new roommate: his accent, his mannerisms. I envisioned him as a short guy with greasy slicked back black hair, yellow teeth and a forest of chest hair. His name would be Juan-Carlos and he’d have a new girl trashier than his taste in clothes every night.

I also imagined that he’d have smelly feet – although the guy huffing on treadmill next to me probably influenced that guess.

Squished back sweat laden to the dorm and collected new clothes to change into after my shower. As I turned the door knob of the bathroom I heard a knock on my door.

Then another.