You Left the Empty Milk Carton! [open]

She shook it, but no matter how much she did, it wasn't going to get any fuller. The cardboard container was empty; Arbor grit her teeth and slammed the door, loud enough for the hinges to lurch. "Asshole, we're going to the store!" The girl shouted, grabbing her beige jacket from the couch. This wasn't the first time, nor the second time he'd done this. She wanted to kill him, and really kill him slowly, ripping off each of his limbs piece-by-small-piece. She placed the jacket over her shoulders, pulling her camo-colored cap over her disheveled bangs. She called once more: "Cayden!"

She didn't even give him time to react to the second shout before a penny whizzed clean through the door, splinters exploding into dust around the "bullet" hole.

When he came out, Arbor didn't look any happier. In fact, despite her beckoning him, his appearance made her mien all the more mean. There was something about him that caused her to go rigid, and she shoved her hands in her pockets to a cluttered chime, tilting her head with a frown that could cut diamonds. She had already made up her mind that he drank it all. To her, he was the cause of all the problems in the dorm. If the ceiling was leaking, it was because he flooded the basement bathroom.

"I don't make deals," Arbor spat. The message was clear and curt; the girl opened the dormitory door, gesturing for him to step out first.

His mention of her mother caused her to go rigid for a moment. Her eyes dipped, and her fists bulged in her pockets. When he reached out his hand, Arbor slapped it out of the way, a loud smack carrying through the hall. She walked ahead, mumbling a monotonous, "Let's go." Needless to say, her expression was as sour as ever.

It was brisk, typical for a North Dakotan March, and many students bundled up in heavy coats, huddling together like penguins in a mass. Arbor walked down the sidewalk in her thin jacket and jean shorts, eyes focused in front of her, glowering at the sidewalk square in front of her. It was strange that a girl so focused on the sidewalk bumped into a passerby, who made a high oof upon impact. Her small "Excuse me!" was met with no response, but rather an icy stare from the small Asian girl.

The passerby adjusted her thick-rimmed glasses. She was a ginger-haired girl, wearing a coat with fur poofing around the hood. She frowned and cleared her throat.

"Excuse me."

Arbor kept walking.

"You're excused."