She was sitting on the bed, the suitcase open in front of her. She folded the clothes calmly, almost slowing down time. Every t-shirt went in with a measured gesture, as if she wasn't in a hurry to close it.
The door opened slowly.
Her mother came in with an envelope in her hand.
"Finally," she said, looking at her. "What's this?"
She looked up, recognized the logo right away.
"It's from the agency," she answered. "It's about the roommate."
Her mother gave a small smile that faded quickly. She sat down beside her.
"I'm sorry," she said softly. "We wanted to get you an apartment all to yourself."
She shook her head, sincerely.
"You don't have to. Really. Thank you for everything you've done... to let me study."
For a moment they stayed like that, close, in silence.
Her mother broke the moment. "Come on. Let's open it."
She looked at the clock.
"I have to go out. I'm going to the bar with the girls. I'll open it with them."
The bar was full of voices, clinking glasses, overlapping laughter.
Her friends surrounded her right away.
"Ready for university?"
"We'll miss you, but don't disappear."
She smiled.
A friend leaned forward.
"So... do you already know who the roommate is?"
"This letter from the agency just arrived," she answered, pulling out the envelope.
"Open it."
"Come on, open it now."
She opened the first sheet. She read aloud only the essentials: instructions, privacy, an email to confirm after reading everything.
Then she moved to the second sheet. Name. Age. A few lines of description.
Finally the photo.
She looked at it for a second.
"He doesn't seem like a bad person," she said. "Actually... he seems harmless."
Her friends dove for the photo.
"Oh my god, have you seen how he's dressed?" said one, barely holding back a laugh.
"Well, he still seems harmless anyway," added the other, more practical. "He won't do anything to you."
She laughed, but shook her head.
"I'm going there to study. Not for anything else."
That evening, at home, while they were having dinner, she still had the photo in her hand.
Her mother noticed.
"He seems like a good guy," she said simply.
She nodded, without adding anything else.
He came home late, after training.
Headphones on his ears, the music covering everything.
There was an envelope on the table.
He picked it up. Opened it.
He read only the first lines: instructions, confirmation by email.
He didn't go further.
He folded the sheet and threw it away.
He went into his room, lay down on the bed.
He took out his phone, opened the email, confirmed.
Closed his eyes.
The music filled his head again.
He didn't care who the roommate would be.
He arrived a day early.
The house was empty, silent, still impersonal. He chose the farthest room without thinking much about it, the one at the end of the hallway. He brought in a few things: a backpack, a bag, the punching bag, the gloves. The rest stayed as it was.
The room was bare, almost naked, but he was fine with it that way. He set his things down, put up the bag later, once he'd finished settling in. He didn't need anything else.