Sitting at his desk, Cal let out a long, distracted sigh. A blank sheet of paper stared back at him, and he supposed he should be grateful. He had put out at least a story lately, and it was a good one, with the proper awful ending of the two main characters, impossible lovers, dying horribly of cholera after they were married. But now his mind ( Read more... )

Forget the 12th Street riot; that place could not hold a candle to the warzone that had become room 407. Cal had never been particularly neat in his room, not unless a girl was coming over, but, with his last roommate, it never got to be anything noticeable. However, it appeared as though, with Merlin, the powers of their individual sloppiness ( Read more... )

With yet another pointless, unearned detention out of the way (he knew it; he knew he'd get one, he'd been feeling it all week), Cal returned to the room with an inkling of hope that a cockroadblock would already be removed and his roommate wouldn't be in at all tonight ( Read more... )