Although the night was early, it started rough, windy, and energetic. In Sin city, no one can see the stars. The darkness in the sky continued to spread as the last signs of daylight burned at the horizon. Dawn slowly emerged. The moon seemed to overtake the rising sun this season as if the morning greetings had already taken place.

When I was barely awake, sunlight shone between the folds of my window blinds. I sat upwards, allowing my eyes to wander around the room. The sun was casting a wicked grin, warming my face. Soon imprinted on my fiery eyelids, it burned with comfort.

I then heard the distant sound of doors opening and closing. I continued sitting on the mattress, listening to the activities outside my door. Then, finally, the sounds of a busy kitchen took place; water was running from the faucet, and metal clangs were ringing. I imagined pots and pans rearranged on top of the kitchen stove.

"Already?" I groaned. After struggling to get out of bed, I thought about the long week that had just passed. The exams and finals were not for the faint of heart. Tired, I slumped from my bedside to the floor for a moment before lazily picking myself up and getting dressed. Before I knew it, I had left my room to prepare breakfast.

"Hey," I managed to mutter to my roommate. Looking at her, she seemed distant. Making some quick observations, I noticed her hair was longer with a few gray strands, and her skin seemed paler, almost sickly.

"Good morning," she replied quietly, looking at me for a moment before returning her dry gaze to the hot pan of 2 eggs. Her eyes were red.

"How'd you sleep?" I asked, trying to strike up a conversation, grabbing a clean bowl from the dishwasher. A minute had passed. But it felt longer.

"Okay." She responded, pausing to say more, but she didn't.

"Just okay?" I wondered if it sounded more forceful than I meant as I heard those words come out of my mouth. Briefly lost in my thoughts, I wasn't sure if she murmured an agreement or said nothing else. Being in the same room with this notoriously jaded colleague and not lashing out was a miracle. But, looking back, I wondered if it was a decent choice to make.

"You know? I realized we were originally just partners working on a project in art class. It's already been a few months since we finished, but the place where I interacted with you the most was at the University. Or even now." I pointed out, pulling a carton of milk out of the refrigerator and a cereal box from the cupboard.

"Jade?" After saying her name, what filled the deafening silence were the sounds of sizzling oil, eggs flipping from the spatula head, and the foodstuff of the grains and oats falling into ceramic.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" I spoke again to get her attention. I stood there, leaning over the counter, spooning some of the granola, and watching her open the rice cooker.

"You just did." She joked. I took a deep breath and collected my thoughts.

"What is it that you do? The walls of this apartment are so thin that the sounds other neighboring families make distract my train of thought. I can hear our next-door neighbor cooking or when the upstairs neighbor takes a shower. I can hear when the kids perform canon balls in the community pool and the birds outside my window. Sometimes, I can't hear my thoughts, if there are any. But you? You're quiet."

"I used to read." Jade sounded solemn.

"How come you stopped?"

"Some people stop reading when they have nothing else to read."

"That doesn't answer my question." I corrected.

"Huh?" Jade then looked at me directly for the first time in a while as if panicked. However, she held her gaze firmly with undivided attention.

"I had asked you why you stopped reading, and you only told me one of the possible reasons someone else might versus why you did." I clarified.

"You said I was quiet before. What gave you that notion? Maybe you don't hear me or the pipes when I turn on the water and brush my teeth." Jade argued.

"I thought it might be. But before you, I had another roommate. They weren't loud, but it was not hard to hear them taking a bath or playing video games. And I knew they were night owls since I would check up on them at night after seeing the light coming from underneath their door, whether it be from the ceiling or their TV."

"We have the same studies, but I never hear an alarm go off. I usually remind you when classes are starting. When I check on you, I don't know whether you're taking a nap. Half of the time, I don't know if you're in there." I gestured my hands over my shoulder.

"Spying on me, much?" She joked. The tone of her voice was like a verbal jab.

"I'm not trying to sound creepy. It's not like I distrust you paying rent or anything. I want to get to know you better."

"Sorry, I suppose I may seem a bit cynical, and uh, how can I say not so easily trusting?" She warns.

"That's understandable. I'm also concerned because I rarely see you eat anything. In my two days off that I've stayed in the living room, you don't leave your room at all.

"I'm just rough around the edges, is all, nothing to worry about."

"I'm sorry if I'm overreaching. I'm just worried." Standing there, I scratch the back of my head sheepishly.

"Why are you nice to me?" Jade sighed.

"I don't think curiosity defaults to randomness. So I don't see a reason as to why I can't or shouldn't be generous to you."

"Well." She stopped everything she was doing and stood there thoughtfully as if figuring out what to say.

"It's hard, being in a pre-contemplation stage of thinking," Her voice shook. "Do I have consent to confide in you what may be triggering?"

"In what context might it be triggering?" I asked.

"It's regarding mental illness." She answered.

"Yes," I reassured. Waiting patiently, I had already finished my bowl of cereal, then washed it clean. I figured Jade's eggs were getting cold.

"When I awake in the morning, I stay in bed. Some do it because of laziness or sleepiness. My procrastination is what some people with depression describe." She rested her arms on the countertop.

"So you have depression?" I interrupted.

"That's not it— let me finish." Frigid December air filled the room. 

"Once I'm awake, I immediately feel hungry. But despite that hunger, I don't move a single inch. It's not that I have forgotten. And it isn't a lack of motivation per se. But somehow, although nothing is physically keeping me from feeding myself, I feel no will to get up. So I just lay there, even to the point of starvation. Up until I'm nauseous and desperate to eat. The thought itself exists, but I feel powerless."

"The same thing goes for hygiene. It's gross, but I can't do it sometimes to shower or brush my teeth. It's why I wear a hat, face mask, and deodorant most often. And it's the same thing for some of the things I love or used to enjoy doing, such as fine art or writing. I have been meaning to do it. But every time I try, all of my confidence leaves me sitting there staring absentmindedly at the screen." She looked down.

"And if I start to type, I become more insecure about my writing as I continue to jot down the words. I wonder if my writing doesn't make sense, is too detailed or hyper-focused on little things, or lacks detail. I could stand to write more simply or more eloquently." Jade began twiddling with her fingers.

"And then I never end up submitting anything. I desire to do this. But perhaps I'm too afraid. My heart breaks a little at feeling powerless over something minuscule. But, on the other hand, I know it doesn't hurt to try. And I could always try again. And again. And it's not the end of the world." As Jade filled in the blanks, I began understanding little by little.

"And yet, somehow." Her voice shakes again. "I have not brought myself to do it. There is a hall of formless, genderless voices. These thoughts and cadences gather in my head and convince me of the opinions of the world I experience, one being, 'I cannot do this.' And those opinions grab validation and energy from my past traumas."

"Jade?" I called out to her again. She froze, unwilling to look at me. She's probably crying at this point.

"I am rather 'high' on the spectrum of easily feeling over-socialized. A few words exchanged or inconsistent physical presence, even inconsistently throughout the day, is enough for me. Then I largely become a homebody to recharge after extremely long periods of severe social withdrawal from society. But, amazingly, I'm a student." She looked terrible. That's what she felt for expressing her need to be distant to those who hear and see what she says or does but isn't acknowledging, accepting, or respecting her emotional needs.

"How long?" I hoped to know.

"I don't know... Sometimes a few months, maybe a season or two. Enough for distress and dysfunction." Jade shrugged. I had been looking to the side, with her in the corner of my eye. It was like Earth had come to a standstill. It's only been a few minutes, yet I'm trying to find the words to say to her. Suddenly, a growing loud, sharp whistle started, and I quickly turned my body in surprise.

"A bottle rocket?" I thought, with my adrenaline bursting and the pitch increasing by the second. I blinked and realized it was a dream upon opening my eyes again. Lying in bed, I could hear other people outside my window, alongside echoes similar to gunfire but sporadic, accompanied by crackling.

Throwing my sheets to the side, I got up and left my bedroom. Crackling sounds seemed louder once I turned to the living room. Jade was sitting against the glass sliding door, watching the sky ablaze in bursting elements of daze. Hesitant, I approached the balcony in hopes of joining her.

"Hey," I greeted, sliding the mesh door screen to the side. Jade was quiet. Closing the screen door, I sat next to her. The scent of rain alluded her. I could see drops of it drying off her jacket.

"Happy New Year," She finally said. Feeling happy, I felt compelled to hold her hand. Her skin, although cold to the touch, contrasted the body heat I had collected from when I was underneath blankets.

"Wanna light some?" I pointed at the sparklers and gaslighter sitting in front of her. Watching her nod, I grabbed two and lit up each one. "We should make a wish."

"From the satellites up there?" She joked.

"No, these!" I retaliated, laughing to myself. I could see the embarrassed look on her face, trying not to smile. Sitting there, we both kept to ourselves. Each time the sparklers burned out, we grabbed another unused pair. Minutes passed, and we were down to our last few.

"Hey. Tell me something that makes you happy," I requested. I didn't think our morning would delve into such sensitive topics. What kind of message do I want to send? Did I intend to comfort her?

"Many things. A refreshing breeze. The scent of rain. The way fresh bread feels after taking the first bite. Or the softness of flower petals. Things that make me happy? It's like when a person tells me their honest, genuine opinion of me. Or when something positive happens to other people. Yesterday, my mother told me that my friends are nice. That made me happy. Maybe her interaction with them can teach her that there are still good people in this world. And I think somehow, being able to still talk to even you today makes me happy too. I appreciate many little things that bring me joy, even a little bit." She expressed.

"10, 9, 8-" neighbors could be heard downstairs, counting down to midnight.

"But honestly, I think the happier moments happen when you find someone who makes you feel beautiful or when you see something beautiful in a person. Sometimes the things you say gives me insight into your inner beauty too." She added.

"3, 2, 1, happy new Year!" the neighbors cheered. It was midnight. I was curious whether it was because of what she said or was worth our time. Maybe I felt impulsive at the moment, and it was my fault. A part of me had felt bad because I didn't even bother asking. If I could, I would describe cold sweat on the side of my head forming from my anxiety and frustration. The minute people cheered happy New Year's, I kissed her for a few seconds. She watched me pull away, and I searched her expression, trying to figure out what she may be thinking.

My face was still close to hers. I could never figure Jade out. But at this moment, I did. I watched her get close, kissing me back for another few seconds to spare. And then I watched her pull away. Nervous, I chuckled, looking out as if to hide that I was blushing. Yet, somehow, it's like I can hear her smiling.