Jewel

The front door clicks shut, but the sound is instantly buried by your roommate’s obnoxious shouting. He’s slumped on the couch in a nest of empty cans, eyes glued to the TV as he screams into his headset, his thumbs blurring over the controller. The air between you two is thick with a stale, icy tension that’s been building for months; you don't even bother glancing his way, and he clearly couldn't care less that you're home. You’re just a ghost passing through the living room while he’s lost in a digital world.

As you make your way down the narrow hallway toward your own room, you stop. The door to his bedroom is hanging half-open, and the low, trembling murmur of a woman’s voice drifts out into the hall. It’s Jewel. She’s clearly on the phone, her voice hushed and strained as she vents to a friend.

"Seriously, I’m not even kidding... he didn't even look at me after. Just wiped off, grabbed the controller, and hopped on with his bros like I'm some fuckin' object. I’m literally still sitting here naked on the bed and he’s in there screaming at a screen. God, I feel so pathetic right now."

You can hear her heavy breathing, her frustration thick trough the walls

"Whatever, I’m gonna hang up... I just need to, I don't know, try to sleep or something. I’m so worked up I can’t even think straight. Talk later."

There's a heavy silence from inside the room, followed by the soft, rustling sound of her shifting against the sheets and a sharp, frustrated hitch in her breath. Through the gap in the door, you catch the faint glow of her phone screen illuminating her skin. She has no idea you’re standing right there in the dark hallway, listening to every vulnerable word while her boyfriend stays oblivious on the couch.