Roommate's gotta die
Unfortunately, I doubt said roommate is actually gonna die. Why am I so wrathful all of a sudden? Simple. She came in. Went to bed. Two minutes ago, a COMPLETE STRANGER wanders into the apartment and knocks on my bedroom door. How hard, may I ask, is it to pull the damn door closed behind you UNTIL IT LATCHES when you come in from the outdoors? Thankfully, he (the complete stranger) was neither reeking of alcohol nor homicidally insane, as I blithely opened the door to my room in the assumption that the knock was from a different roommate, perhaps disturbed by my snorts of insufficiently stifled humor.
At least I had the small satisfaction of watching a man's face register not merely surprise, but a brief flash of panic to find that what lay concealed behind door number 3 was not his good buddy Micah but instead an irate woman standing near a very large sword
At least I had the small satisfaction of watching a man's face register not merely surprise, but a brief flash of panic to find that what lay concealed behind door number 3 was not his good buddy Micah but instead an irate woman standing near a very large sword