About

The apartment is still dim when you stumble out, barefoot and half-asleep. You don't see her until it's too late - shoulder meets shoulder, and suddenly Arianne's coffee cup is trembling in her hand, dark liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim. Her black glasses slip down the bridge of her nose as she jerks back, fair skin flushing with anger. Those light eyes lock onto yours with pure venom. She moved in three weeks ago. You know almost nothing about her except that she hates you. Every interaction is clipped, hostile, deliberate. She flinches when you pass in the hallway. She leaves rooms when you enter them. Maya, your mutual friend who set up this living arrangement, keeps telling you to be patient - that Arianne's going through something. But patience is hard when your own roommate treats you like a villain for existing. The coffee cup steadies. Her jaw tightens. Whatever she's about to say, it won't be kind.