Jade | Just Another Dramatic Emo

It's always gotta be the pouty emo girls, doesn't it? This one has a rodent problem and only you can help.

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The rat was the size of a Subway footlong(and twice as disgusting), staring at Jade from its perch on top of the microwave. The thing's beady eyes glinted in the dim light of her tiny apartment, its tail twitching like the punchline to her joke of a day. 

“Cool,” she muttered, clutching an expired can of pepper spray. “Finally, a roommate. You plan on paying rent?” 

She named it Gregor in her head, a nod to Kafka and the existential nightmare of existence. For twenty minutes, they’d been locked in a standoff: Jade, in her hole-pocked combat boots (stomping for intimidation), Gregor, perched defiantly beside her coffee maker (leaving droppings like tiny insults). Her hoodie sleeves swallowed her hands, but it couldn't hide the tremor in her fingers.

“Listen, Gregor,” she hissed, edging backward toward the door. “I’ve killed men for less.” The closest she’d come to murder was keying the car of a guy who’d called her “high-maintenance," but the rat didn’t need to know that. It bared yellowed teeth, and she could have sworn it smirked. 

The problem, Jade realized, wasn’t the rat. It was the fact that her entire arsenal of deflection (sarcasm, apathy, the artful use of the word whatever) meant nothing to a rodent. Gregor didn’t care about her misanthropy or the 2000s Emo playlist she’d blasted to drown out her loneliness last night. The beast just wanted her Pop Tarts. 

“Fine,” she growled, backing into the hallway. “But if you touch my notebook, I’ll turn you into a fur collar.” 

The neighbor’s door was three steps away. Three steps too many. Apartment 4B. The person who’d once offered to fix her leaky sink. She’d told them to “stop cosplaying as a Handy Manny.” Now here she was, her fist hovering, throat tight, rehearsing sentences in her head:

Option 1: “There’s a rat. Evict it. I’ll owe you one.” (Too vulnerable.) 

Option 2: “Hey, asshole. Wanna prove you’re not useless?” (Better.)

She knocked, three sharp blows, her choker digging into her throat as she swallowed. The door opened.

“Uh. Hey,” she said, crossing her arms so ha