The shouting inside the dorm room was worse than usual. Although the floor’s resident advisor, Bill, couldn’t make out exactly what was being said – he could tell it was serious this time. The twenty-year old rolled his eyes at the thought of having to deal with yet another roommate conflict during midterms. This was the worst time of year for this sort of thing. Then, just as Bill was about to knock the door flew open.<br/><br/>“Fine!” Sam Connors shouted at his soon-to-be ex-roommate with no uncertain subtext. Before the roommate could respond Sam slammed the door and walked right towards Bill. The R.A. knew better than to try and block the football team’s starting running back. Bill sidestepped Sam and let him by, instead choosing to follow close behind. The brown-haired, blue-eyed 19-year old Sam burst into the communal bathroom in the center of the floor with both hands. Just over six feet tall and athletic, it was lucky that no one was behind the door at the time. The young man stepped over to a sink and ran some cold water, staring down into the worn-out fixture with distant eyes.<br/><br/>Bill followed him in  and leaned up against a wall nearby. “You know, this is a tough time of semester for everyone,” he said in his practiced tone of understanding and concern. Sam ignored Bill and splashed some cold water on his face.<br/><br/>“Spare me the psychoanalysis, Sigmund,” he eventually replied in a serious tone. Looking up into the mirror Sam caught sight of them again – and they scared him. He raised both hands to his head to feel around – which struck Bill as odd.<br/><br/>“Did Tom hit you in the head?” Bill asked in a concerned tone, hoping that was not the case. If so that meant Bill would have a ton of paperwork to deal with as well as campus police. Bill’s girlfriend was on her way over and he didn’t have time for this right now.<br/><br/>Sam blinked and looked again into the mirror. Shadowy whisps seemed to jut out from each side of his head and point upwards. They moved with him as he turned his head – but yet he couldn’t feel them. Sam looked at Bill with a confused expression.<br/><br/>“You don’t see them, right?” he asked sheepishly.<br/><br/>“See what?” Bill asked, looking carefully at his head. “I don’t see any blood or anything.”<br/><br/>Sam sighed in response. It seemed these phantom horns that had started appearing whenever he was angry were all in his head - otherwise Bill would have freaked if he could see them. Sam relaxed slightly in response. He could deal with being a little nuts; actually having horns would be a problem.<br/><br/>“Don’t worry, I’m moving out,” Sam said finally as he reached for a hand towel to dry off with. “Your problem child is moving on.”<br/><br/>A more thoughtful R.A. might have said something supportive and empowering, but Bill only smiled.<br/><br/>“I’ll go get you the paperwork,” he replied simply with a self-satisfied smile.<br/><br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: gray;background:gray;"/></div><br/><br/>That Saturday, the first of November, Sam started moving himself into his new off-campus apartment. Genuinely excited about the prospects of starting over without a roommate, he smiled as he lugged a heavy box up the front stairs. The building was a dilapidated old Victorian that had been converted to student apartments. The box he was carrying was too high, though, and once inside he didn’t see his neighbor coming at him the other way. She, too, must have been distracted since they walked directly into each other.<br/><br/>Sam landed with the contents of his box spilled all over the floor. A football helmet, some paperback books, a picture frame and a pair of boxers landed on top of the pile. Partially stunned, Sam blinked in the dark corridor to see what had happened. There in front of him was one of his neighbors – who looked to be a fellow student his own age. He began apologizing profusely.<br/><br/>“I’m… I’m so sorry, miss…” he said, taking full responsibility. “I didn’t hear you coming. Are you OK?” he asked, shuffling out from under the pile of stuff.