One wonders why our protagonist doesn't find another room while her roommate beds with a boyfriend. One wonders why the roommate would deign to touch someone else's used condom but doesn't want to touch other trash. One wonders why the protagonist likes a professor so desperately that she can't see his complete apathy toward her. Or her roommate's dismissal.
The protagonist is a scholarship student, as is her roommate. These are the smart kids. But sometimes smarts are just grades on paper or scores on tests and have little to do with real life, with living, with *doing* what's smart--which sort of reminds me of some people I went to school with, which sort of reminds me of, well, me. (At least my roommates were kind enough not to bring the women to our apartment when they thought I was around--well, most of my roommates.) Read the story here at Freight Stories.
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