It might sound cool. But I assure you it is more of a headache than fun. Maybe if I was a rogue superhero it would be better, however I had to be born under not only one, but two parents who work with the military. So it was obvious that once I gained my powers I would too work with the military. Under my very sweet and caring dad to be exact. Of course mom is always there too, so she does everything she can to ease his grip. It doesn’t always work. And dad is strict with training, studying and everything really. I know the man tries, I mean he was the one who taught me Krav Maga and put me en route to want to be a physiotherapist. He is a good dad, but suffocating at times.

And for fourteen years I have been following his directions. Trained everyday, was home-schooled for most of my life, worked my ass off going to conflict territories, helping refugees, overthrowing tyrants, and all that superhero stuff. Now I’m finally having control of pretty much everything related to my life. It still is chaotic, as I’m learning. And I might have messed up a little, but I’m not losing yet. I’m particularly confident of that when I see that beautiful piece of paper attached to one of the boards in the university’s corridor. It reads “looking for roommate, no requirements” and a phone number under it. I call it immediately.

“Hi, I’m calling about the roommate poster, is that the right number?”

“Hey, yes, it is.” It’s a male’s voice that sounds quite happy. “I’m the landlord of that apartment, Mike.”

“I’m Thomas. I guess it still is available?”

“Yes. You wanna see it now? Can I send the address to this number?”

“Sure.”

“Great, see you in a few.”

Mike sounds like a nice guy. And Google maps says the apartment is not even that far from the university. I sense there is a catch. Probably the rent. Well, working for the army is a pain, but the pay is good. Especially when you are someone who has absolutely no connection to them, should anyone ever ask. And desperate times call for desperate measures, since I don’t have that many options I’ll take whatever I can.

He is already waiting for me at the door when I get there. He is not a big guy. Shorter than me by a head and more on the skinny side. I think his hair is naturally blonde, but I can see he dyed it to some sort of purple. It is certainly different, but not bad. And he seems like a really nice landlord, though I wouldn’t have anyone else to compare him to. We shake hands and he gives me a tour around the place. It’s quite spacious, has good light, the furniture is well-maintained, there is Wi-Fi and cable. The rooms are in front of one another across a corridor, and my roomie has claimed the one on the left, but the one on the right is pretty much the same, or so he says. Talking about the roomie, it’s a she and Mike says she went out for a while. I ask the dreaded question of how much is the rent and surprisingly it’s quite cheap for such a nice house so close to the university and the rest of the city.

“Where do I sign?” I happily ask.

But before he can answer, through the door comes the roomie and I finally understand the catch. I think I haven’t ever made someone so openly displeased by just existing.