I am in the suite living room. Six of my friends are roaming around throughout various parts of the room. One of my suitemates is wandering around the kitchen, making a meal. Smells of cooking meat emanate from the kitchen, and battle with the smell of a freshly vacuumed carpet. A suitemate sits behind me, typing away on his laptop, with the sound from a computer game in the background. Another suitemate sits adjacent to me, flipping through channels on the massive fifty-five inch LCD television. I can hear someone else slamming on their practice drum kit in the other room, with the rumble of the bass drum particularly audible through the wall. My eyes are squinting from the sunlight through the balcony glass door. A draft of cold air reaches my skin from another room, or perhaps from under the doorway of somewhere else.

There’s a lot of idle chatter passing back and forward. I’m not really paying attention to any of it, as most of it seems casual and hardly private. I hear someone playing with the stove, turning over the cooking meat as it browns. The channel changes once more, and I hit my fingers on the keyboard for the final few sentences.