Alessandra
Staring into the three distinct fingerprints in my personal jar of peanut butter is a rude awakening this morning. I can hear Deanna’s reaction in my head, as clear as day. Your roommate eats your food with her bare hands? What is she, a raccoon? Girl, NO.
Your roommate eats your food with her bare hands? What is she, a raccoon? Girl, NO.I learned that Flora, my new roommate, has very few boundaries the moment I first opened the door two weeks ago, laden with my luggage. She greeted me from the couch upon which she sprawled, naked from the waist down. A gasp and perhaps a dramatic averting of my eyes didn’t move her in the slightest to go put pants on.
Instead, she waved me in, complaining, “Come in, come in. There’s a draft.”
“Good thing I’m fluent in Italian because introd
