Nika Noir | Dorm

Her desk wasn’t for studying. It was for staring. A half-empty mug of cold black coffee sat beside a Zippo that hadn’t sparked in months. The window faced a brick wall — no view, just texture. She traced the mortar lines with her eyes at 2 a.m., imagining they were escape routes.

Inside, the world went monochrome.

“You live like a suspect,” her roommate once said. nika noir dorm

Nika lit a cigarette she didn’t inhale, watched the smoke curl toward a water-stained ceiling. “Everyone does,” she said. “Most just decorate better.” Her desk wasn’t for studying