I wake up to him lounging at the foot of my bed, sipping coffee. And since I don’t have any coffee, that means he must have filched some of my roommate’s. He leans over, whispering scraggly tones at my ear. “Finally, you’re awake. Up and at ’em. Took you long enough!” As I slide my way out from under the covers, and before my feet contact the ground, he’s laying into me. The barrage of insults mingles with my chipper morning alarm song on my phone, and it’s hard to pick out the chorus from his condemning tune.

My favorite female vocalist promises me a “Good Morning.”

As usual, he has a different morning in mind, for me. And it’s all my fault.

“Better hurry up!” he snickers. “Who knows how long that song has been playing? You don’t want to wake up your roommates, do you?” I slip across…