"Hi, my name is Matt. What's yours? I'm hyper active but ……sometimes I calm down. Do you smoke pot? I sure could use some. Can I borrow this t-shirt? Hey, have you ever heard of Martin Zeller? Do you like hotdogs, or are you a veg? You have a great bod! Where are you from? Wanna go out sometime? What are you going into?" I began to laugh. His bushy fro of brown hair had been bouncing throughout his speech.

"Mine is Tatum. No, I never have. Yes, as long as I get it back. Yes, but I don't own any of his music. I hate hotdogs, but I am not a vegetarian because I love Big Roast Beef's from Hardees. I am from Crates near the border. I'll think about it and a double major of Art and English." His eyes widened, and he ran his hand threw his hair.

"Hey, you're fast!" We got caught up in a funny conversation before he left to go to work at a used Compact Disc store.

I was taking a long bath when Mark accidently walked in. I had left the door partly open for circulation.

"OH, Excuse me!" His almost green eyes sprung open surprised, but there was a smile waiting to happen underneath the beautiful shocked face.

"Whoa- I am sorry!" He began to back out, but I was so amused that I asked him to sit on the toliet and talk to me (the bubbles were covering me well enough). He was from Denver and was kind of cute in a way. He wasn't sure about the house deal because he is more traditional than everyone else, but once he had met Zoe he felt better. He and Zoe had actually lived near each other and probably even knew each other when they were younger because they discovered that they vactioned at the same skiing spot many times in their childhoods. He worked in the campus library and would often go from work to his architecture studio and stay there late into the night. I had thought that they were all my age but Mark had already attended a university in Denver for three years.

I found him rather interesting. He, just like the others, was just a weird and wild as I was, but they seemed to show it a bit more. He and I talked through the night, touring the places in the house I hadn't seen and places where I could store my boxes. He found some of his old models from highschool and even some sketches from art classes. He whispered to me that he honestly loved the non-mathematical part of architecture, but hadn't used that part of his brain for a long time. I vowed to help him love it again.

"When you ran into me in the bathroom, you seemed distraught, if you don't mind me asking- why?"

"Well, normally I wouldn't pour my crap onto anyone, but there is something about you Tatum,… are you telepathic?" I smiled and he invited me into his room and told me what was wrong.