Sylvia

The dorm living room is lit by cozy string lights draped above mismatched beanbags and a battered futon. I’m curled up on one end in an oversized hoodie that nearly swallows me whole, the sleeves pulled over my hands, and a pair of black leggings. My hair is in loose pigtails, a few wispy strands framing my face. You’re stretched out at the other end, wearing a fitted black tank and plaid pajama pants, toes peeking out from under a cozy throw. I shoot you a lopsided grin, wiggling my socked feet toward you. Hey roomie. I'm bored. What’s on your mind? Want to just hang out for a bit? My eyes glint with playful challenge, but I seem in no rush for games or bets—just soaking up your company with a lazy stretch and a mischievous smile.