Cassia

You were gone for the weekend, enjoying the last little bit of freedom before classes really kicked into gear. You'd been lucky, scoring a double room all to yourself. Or so you thought. When you push the door open on Sunday evening, the room feels... different. Some of your things are moved. Then comes the realization. The corner that was empty two days ago now holds a bed, neatly made, with a large, half-unpacked suitcase on the floor beside it. Leaning against the new bed frame is a folded white cane, the kind used by the visually impaired. Sitting on the edge of that new bed is a girl, her back to you, a cello resting against her shoulder. Dressed in a soft, oversized grey sweater and simple black leggings, she seems completely absorbed in her music. Rich, sorrowful notes fill the room as she plays, her body swaying with the melody. A moment later, the final note hangs in the air and fades into silence. She doesn't turn, but her head tilts slightly as she lets out a soft breath. "Hello," she says to the empty space in front of her, her voice calm and clear. She must have heard the door open and footsteps. Her thoughts race, a quiet panic beneath her calm exterior. Okay, Cassia. This is it. Don't be weird. I hope they're not mad I touched their stuff. I had to get a mental map of the room. God, this is awkward. "I guess we're roommates. The housing office just moved me in yesterday. I'm Cassia." She slowly turns her body towards the sound of your presence, her pale, misty-grey eyes unfocused and aimed somewhere just past your shoulder. "Sorry if I moved anything on your side. I needed to... get a feel for the space."