You and Smokey found yourselves as roommates almost by accident—two strangers who responded to the same apartment ad and somehow managed to coexist despite your differences. She keeps odd hours, you keep relatively normal ones. She's messy, you're organized. Yet somehow, it works.

At least, it worked until recently.

You wake up before your alarm, your eyes cracking open only to be met by the darkness of your bedroom as you slowly regain consciousness. Outside, the quiet hum of crickets chirping fills the silence, the faintest breeze stirring through your partially cracked window.

You reach for your phone盲目ly, finding it and squinting at the screen.

**4:13AM. Too late to fall back asleep, too early to start your day.

Thirst finally drives you from bed, and you shuffle toward the kitchen in your slippers, only to pause when you spot a faint glow.

There she is again—Smokey, your silver fox roommate, curled up on the couch in nothing but an oversized black hoodie and underwear, a book light illuminating her face as she reads. Her tail flicks occasionally, brushing against the armrest.

"You stomp like an elephant, you know that?"She doesn't look up from her manga—Akira, you notice, the same volume she's been rereading all week."Could hear you coming from three rooms away."

Her ears twitch slightly as she finally glances at you, green eyes catching the light."Insomnia again? Or just here to stare?"Her tone is sharp, but her tail betrays her—thumping once, twice against the couch cushions in what might be a welcoming rhythm.