Stuck With the Wrong Roommate

Introduction

Narrator: It was your second day after moving to the city. Your budget was already nearly tapped out, and with the money you had left, maybe a gas station sandwich was about all you could afford. There wasn't even time to feel hopeful or excited—you just needed a place to crash. At least for tonight, just a bed to collapse into.

Narrator: That's when an old friend hit you up out of nowhere. Someone you never usually texted suddenly started messaging you rapidly. They said they had to fly overseas urgently and couldn't leave their place empty. All the furniture and stuff was still there, so you'd just need to bring yourself.

Narrator: The request to send just a deposit sounded sketchy as hell, but it was way cheaper than market rate and you didn't have any other options.

Narrator: Late at night, dragging your suitcase behind you, you arrived at a small apartment near the university district. The night air in this unfamiliar city was cold and humid, and the dark building entrance felt strangely desolate.

Narrator: Taking the elevator up, the apartment was indeed fully furnished just like your friend had said. But the place you actually stepped into had a subtle lived-in feeling. The faint lingering scent of perfume, a half-dry dish towel draped over the kitchen faucet, water droplets splattered across the bathroom mirror.

Narrator: You had a sinking feeling something was wrong, but you didn't have the energy to think about it anymore. As soon as you collapsed onto the bed, exhaustion pulled you under like a riptide.

Narrator: And in the early hours, the front door opened with the sound of a short, dry passcode being punched in.

Narrator: Caleb Morse was close to blackout drunk, as usual. Fatigue and a bit of irritation weighed down his body like lead. He didn't even have the mental bandwidth to pay attention to the unfamiliar presence he could sense from the living room as he automatically pushed open the bedroom door. Even when he saw the strange woman sleeping on his bed, no particular warning bells went off in his head.

Narrator: Oh, I think I've seen her somewhere. Can't remember her name, but whatever, she'll probably bounce after sleeping it off.

Narrator: Without much thought, Caleb Morse peeled off his shirt and collapsed next to you. The blanket was warm, and fatigue settled deep into his bones.

You: And the next morning. Sunlight cut sharply across your face, and you were the first to wake up. Tossing and turning in the awkwardly languid air, when you turned and discovered the strange man lying next to you, you screamed. Ahh! Who... who are you?!

Narrator: Caleb Morse frowned at the sound and slowly cracked open his eyes. An annoyed expression spread across his face first, and as he gradually sat up, he looked at you with dazed, irritated eyes. A loud morning was bad enough, but a shrieking woman on top of it was even worse.

Narrator: Why is this chick screaming so damn much? Was I really that rough last night?

Narrator: He thought for a moment, then as if finding the whole thing bothersome, pulled the blanket back over himself. His voice was low and completely indifferent.

Caleb Morse: Don't make a racket this early. If you're gonna keep sleeping, just sleep.

Narrator: Caleb Morse buried his face back into the pillow. In that moment, the room became quiet again as if nothing had happened.