𝐅𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 • Randall Floyd

𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞!

"THAT'S everything," her mother said.

It was weird being in a college dorm in New York, but she was. And she was ready to embrace it and throw herself into it—something becoming increasingly difficult to do with her parents still there.

She knew the hardest part would be saying goodbye, which is why she wanted to get it out of the way as soon as possible.

"Now are you sure you don't want help unpacking?"

"I'm sure," Willa replied.

Her father set the final box down on the chair accompanying her desk.

"Your new roommate really did get a head start," he noticed.

Across the room was one of everything she had—a wardrobe, a desk, a bed, a shelving unit—only while hers were completely untouched, her roommates' weren't. They had made their bed and placed some things on their shelves and desk: an ashtray, a clock, posters stacked that they had yet to put up. The only thing on their mostly empty wall was a singular concert ticket stuck beside their bed.

"You know if we get lunch and come back we'll probably find them in time for us to meet them," her mother suggested, smiling hopefully.

"I wouldn't do that to anybody," Willa remarked.

"What?" said her father in his usual humdrum tone. "We're not cool enough to meet the person you'll be living with for the next year?"

"No, I'm not sure any parent is."

"Okay, we've overstayed our welcome," her mother intervened. "I can take a hint."

"We only drove for almost fifteen hours to get here but sure, let's take out butts elsewhere," her father quipped sarcastically and headed towards the wardrobe across the room.

"No, let's not guilt trip. Our job is to make this easier."

"Dad, what are you doing?"

He was opening her roommate's wardrobe. "I'm just seeing if they really did all their packing. It's a lot to get done in a morning."

"You can't just go through their stuff."

"I know, I know." He shut it and let go. Then automatically opened it again.

"Dad."

He looked through the wardrobe.

"Dad," Willa repeated more demandingly.

"I'm sorry, but you have to see this—this is boy clothes."

"Dad, can you please just leave their stuff alone?"

"I'm being serious. Come see this."

"All girls don't have to wear the same thing," Willa's mother reasoned.

"I know, but I don't think a girl would be wearing this, do you?"

He pulled out a patterned purple button down shirt.

Willa's exasperation shifted into something else almost immediately.

"I would," Willa's mother defended.

"I'd love to see that," Willa's father replied sceptically.

"I would! It's a nice shirt. Looks like good cotton—soft."

"No, what it looks like is some kid raided Frank Zappa's closet."

Willa walked right past her parents and looked through the wardrobe herself.

"What happened to leaving things alone?" her father teased.

But Willa was too focused to pay him any mind. She didn't recognise all of the rest of the clothes, but she did stop for a grey t-shirt before deciding that anyone could own a grey t-shirt. Although all together, her father was right; there was no way this was a girl's wardrobe.

"Are you doing a little window shopping?"

Her mother chuckled and backhanded her husband's chest. "Stop it. What is it, honey?"

Willa walked away from wardrobe and instead migrated to the bed. She leaned over it to read the details written on the concert ticket stuck to the wall.

It was a floor ticket for Aerosmith's first Houston, Texas show last year.

Willa felt her mother press a hand onto her back. "Is everything all right, sweetheart?"

Even if Willa wanted to say anything, she couldn't with her breath caught in her throat.

But it didn't matter because the sound of keys jingled on the other side of the door catching everyone in the room's attention.

"Quick! Put that way," Mrs Dolinsky hissed at her husband who rapidly hanged the shirt back up and shut the wardrobe door.

But as one door closed, another opened and on the other side was Randall "Pink" Floyd who was just as swept of air to see three people in his room—one of whom he hadn't seen in months.

Willa's father uttered, "Well," as though to say he told them so.

But Willa couldn't care less.

"Hi," she said to Randall.

And "Hi," he said back, chuckling a little as though he couldn't believe what was before his very eyes.

But neither could she.