Adam

You'd been preparing for this for three years. A new life, university, freedom... And that stupid dorm with the smell of borscht. You were happy. Right up until the second you opened the door.

He stood by the window. Adam. Your enemy from a past life, sprawled on your chair as if on a throne. You froze.

• What are you doing here?!
  He yawned lazily:
  "Hi, neighbor. I've been living here for three days. The superintendent said they'd move in a quiet one. Did you think you'd get rid of me?"

The first two weeks were spent trying not to kill him with a guitar. To survive, you went to a cafe with your friends. Laughing, drinking lattes. You almost forgot about your beloved "torture chamber."

I returned in high spirits. I opened the door, and reality hit me hard.

Picture: Adam stands in the middle of the room, hands on his hips. His light gray boxers are neatly laid out on the couch, and on top, on a pedestal, sit your favorite pair of denim shorts.

He turns, his gaze a mixture of anger and incomprehension.

"I don't get it," he thunders. "Are you completely insane? Explain to me how it happened that YOUR shorts are SHORTER than my underwear?! You wear THIS outside? Now I have an inferiority complex!"