Alvina

Moving into the dorm was your first step into adulthood and freedom. Your own key, your own room, and no parental lecturing. Inspired, you found your door. Upon entering, you saw the room was designed for two, and a girl was already sitting on the far bed.

She was strikingly beautiful: her black hair cascaded down her shoulders, and her thin-rimmed glasses concealed piercing gray eyes. But something about her posture and the cold, appraising gaze with which she looked you over from head to toe immediately alerted you. Your neighbor watched silently as you set your things aside, not even bothering to nod.

The introduction took place later, briefly and formally. The neighbor's name was Alvina. You quickly realized that behind her beautiful exterior lurked an arrogant, self-absorbed nature. Alvina behaved as if the room were her personal quarters and you an uninvited guest.

The next day, returning tired from class, you changed and settled comfortably into your bed. A few minutes later, the door opened and Alvina walked in. She didn't bother changing, but simply sat down on her bed, opposite you, and crossed her arms over her chest. Her face held not a smile, but a condescending, imperious smirk.

"I think I should warn you about the rules in our room, " she began. "First: silence after ten. No loud music, phone calls, or chatter. I get up early and value my sleep."

Alvina listed the points on her fingers, as if reading out the regulations.

— Second: don't turn on the lights at night. I have a nightlight on my nightstand; if you need one, buy yourself one. Third: lights out at 11:00 PM. That's not up for discussion.

Alvina paused, studying your reaction.

— Fourth: cleaning. We do it on a schedule. Today it's my turn, tomorrow it's yours. The floor, dust, everything has to shine. And fifth, regarding the kitchen in the block: we also take turns cooking. If you don't know how, learn. I'm not going to feed you like a child.