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The digital clock on your nightstand reads 2:37 AM when the front door suddenly SLAMS shut. THUD! “WOOO! I’M HOOOOME!” You jolt awake, barely having time to process the noise before you hear the unmistakable clomping of oversized sneakers coming down the hallway. Something crashes in the kitchen, followed by a muffled giggle and the sound of someone wrestling with a stubborn zipper. “Stupid… freaking… SHOES! C’mon, get OFF!” Another thump shakes the wall. “HAH! Victory!” Your bedroom door swings open without warning, and there stands your roommate, the purple-clad mummy herself. Her ivory linen wrappings are slightly loosened from a long night out, her oversized sneakers dangle from one hand, and her glowing amber eyes shine with the unearned enthusiasm of someone who apparently has never heard of a bedtime. “Pssst! Hey! Hey, roomie!” She leans against the doorframe, grinning beneath her wrappings. “Guess who just had the BEST night EVER?” She doesn't wait for an answer. “ME!” She throws both arms into the air, immediately knocking a small decorative item off the nearby shelf. “WHOOPS! Heheheh…” The mummy freezes, stares at the fallen object, then slowly looks back at you. “…You didn't hear that.” She tiptoes into the room. Or, at least, attempts to. The layers of linen around her legs rustle with every step, and her chunky sneakers make a series of soft but unmistakable squeaks against the floor. “So! There I was, right? Mindin' my own business, having a perfectly normal evening, when SOMEONE challenges me to a dance-off. And naturally, I absolutely DESTROY them.” She demonstrates a particularly exaggerated dance move, nearly losing her balance before catching herself against your dresser. “Still got it! Thousands of years old, and I can STILL shake it!” She flashes you a proud thumbs-up, seemingly oblivious to the fact that you're awake in the middle of the night. “Anyway, I figured I'd come tell you all about it because you're my favorite roommate, and—” She pauses. Her glowing eyes narrow as she finally registers your expression. “…Oh.” Silence. “…Were you sleeping?” She looks at the clock. Then at you. Then back at the clock. “…” Her shoulders slowly rise. “Okay, first of all, in my defense, that clock is REALLY hard to read in the dark.” She gives you an innocent little shrug, her pink skull emblem catching the faint light. “Second of all, you should be THANKING me. I just gave you a free midnight wake-up call! Very exclusive service. Usually costs three gold coins and a small offering to the ancient gods.” She grins and plops herself onto the edge of your bed, making the mattress bounce. “So, whatcha think? Wanna hear the story, or are you gonna keep giving me that look?” Her eyes sparkle mischievously. “…Because I haven't even told you about the part where I accidentally got kicked out of a karaoke bar.” She leans closer and whispers at approximately the volume of a foghorn. “TWICE.”

The first thing you notice when you wake up is the weight. Something—or, more accurately, someone—is lying directly on top of you. You blink groggily, your eyes adjusting to the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. A mass of purple fabric fills your vision, accompanied by the faint smell of clean linen and whatever sugary perfume your roommate insists isn't hers. Then you hear it. "Mmmmmmnh..." A quiet, contented little hum comes from the person sprawled across your chest. Your roommate. The mummy. She's somehow managed to climb into your bed during the night, and now she's sleeping on top of you like a particularly stubborn weighted blanket. Her purple tunic is slightly rumpled, her ivory linen wrappings are loosely folded around her arms and legs, and her oversized sneakers have been abandoned somewhere on the floor. One of her wrapped arms is draped across your waist. Her head rests comfortably against your chest, with her little pink skull emblem tilted sideways. And she is absolutely, completely, unapologetically asleep. "Mmm... five more centuries..." she mumbles. You try to shift. Immediately, she tightens her arms around you. "Noooo..." She nuzzles closer, apparently deciding that whatever you're attempting to do is a personal attack on her beauty sleep. "Bed's warm... you're warm... floor's cold..." She lets out a tiny, satisfied sigh. "S'not my fault you're comfy..." You stare at the ceiling, trying to figure out how your life has somehow led to being pinned beneath a several-thousand-year-old mummy who treats you like a living mattress. After a moment, you gently poke her shoulder. Nothing. You poke her again. "Five. More. Centuries." Her glowing amber eyes remain firmly shut beneath her linen-wrapped brow. Then, without warning, she speaks again. "...If you're the sleep police, I want my lawyer." You can't help but stare at her. Was she awake this entire time? As if reading your thoughts, one amber eye slowly cracks open. She looks up at you, blinks once, and offers the sleepiest, most shameless little grin imaginable. "Oh. Hiiii, roomie." She lifts her head just enough to look at you properly before settling right back onto your chest. "Morning." There's a pause. "...Why're you in my bed?" She squints at you. Then at the pillow beneath your head. Then back at you. "Wait a minute." Her eyes widen with theatrical realization. "IS THIS YOUR BED?!" She gasps, throwing one linen-wrapped hand over her mouth. "Oh my gosh. Roomie, you should've SAID SOMETHING!" She makes absolutely no attempt to move. Instead, she gets comfortable again, folding her arms beneath her head like a pillow. "Well, whatever. I'm already here, and moving sounds like a lot of work." She closes her eyes and gives you a smug little smile. "Besides, you can't evict me. I'm technically an ancient artifact, and disturbing me is probably illegal in at least three countries." Another peaceful sigh escapes her. "Now shhh. Your favorite mummy is recharging." She pauses, then cracks one eye open again. "...Unless you wanna make breakfast. Then I'll consider waking up." 💜