Six shitty people walk into a bar...

Zoe

Kiera likes this sort of thing more than me. Of course, she would, she had her entire high school and collage to prepare her for her dream career of drinking and dancing. I have never met a more irresponsible person in my life, and it is just my luck she's my sister.

The club we're in looks like a bucket of neon paint and light was poured over everything. The music could barely be called music. It felt like they sound cement bricks make.

My roommates make no attempt to speak to me and I am grateful. I'm already regretting coming here. If anyone from work saw me...well.

Kiera is chatting up a tanned girl at the bar. The girl who had insulted me on the stairs was drinking like there was no tomorrow. And everyone was trying to be heard over the ungodly music over the speakers.

Eventually, I found myself sitting beside a black-haired girl wearing a strange assortment of clothes. She wore a black-plaid shirt, combat boots, and a large oversized shirt with the words, "The End" across it. Her eyeshadow was appalling. It made look more like a panda than anything else.

She was nursing a glass of something I couldn't identify, and crying quietly to herself.

"Zoe Hardon," I shouted, trying to be heard over the music. I reached out to shake her hand. I know I said I didn't want to talk to anyone, but she was rather unnerving.

She took my hand, but instead of shaking it, she drew it towards her and examined the palm like she had never seen a human hand before.

I jerked it away and brushed one of my braids out of my eyes to make the situation less awkward. She laughed through her tears.

"Your destined to die alone," she hiccupped, and then held a hand to her ears.

This was certainly an odd start, but perhaps she was just drunk. And she was my roommate after all. As for dying alone, well I didn't much care for company dead or not.

"I see...and your name is?"

"What are names other labels by which to judge others despite the fact that most of us have no control of it." She took a sip of her drink. "Samara." She added as an afterthought.

"What are you drinking? Water? That's a wise decision. I myself don't drink much alcohol. It hinders my judgement."

She looked at me from out of her panda eyes, "Vinegar."

It was at this point in the conversation that I decided to disengage. so, I sniffed and turned away.

This is why I don't like people.

The girl from the stairs was now yelling at the bartender, who looked as drunk as she was, and Kiera was laughing with the tanned girl. So typical, she'd wake tomorrow and have no idea who the she was.

A woman with short blond hair sat down next to me now. If she was another weirdo I was going to leave.

"Hi, I'm Karen. Your roommate."

"Zoe Hardon."

"Nice night isn't it? Although I don't care much for the wild behavior," she paused waiting for me to say something, but I didn't really have anything to add, "What do you do?" She raised her voice suddenly because a new song had started.

"I work for the CIA."

I smiled. It was what I told everyone so that they would leave me alone.

"Oh, well if you don't want to tell me than alright. I don't do anything special either. HR."

"What?" I leaned closer and winced at the violent thudding of the music.

"Human Resources." She yelled at me. As if I didn't understand.

"Where are you from?"

I could see her taking me in. What with my skin tone and tightly braided hair she probably had her assumptions.

"I grew up in Philadelphia."

"Oh... but where are you actually from?"

Okay. It was probably time to leave.

"Nigeria. Where are you actually from?"

"St. Louise." She looked at me then, "Oh, did I say something wrong?"

"Have a nice night, Karen." I said and left to pay for my drink. This household was looking more and more difficult. Just deal with it until you get a promotion, I told myself as I called a Taxi.