It was, Erik thought, far from being an ideal way to begin his first year of university. As though attempting to punctuate his thoughts, the drainpipe running along the roof of the building he was walking next to collapsed, thoroughly soaking his already damp body, plastering his thin jacket to his boney frame. Deep in his heart, Erik cursed his parents for sending him to a university in this particular city, the city for being situated in an area with such lousy weather, then the area, the country, the continent, and the planet for having such a lousy rotational access and being at such an unfortunate distance from the sun.

The entire soggy mess - his dripping clothing, his squelching shoes, his running nose, and his suitcase made triply heavy thanks to the sudden deluge - might have been tolerable, barely tolerable, if his parents had simply listened to his single request. As he was splashed by a speeding car, it was becoming increasingly apparent to Erik that asking to stay in one of the campus dorms (near which the unheated bus had deposited a gaggle of luggage-toting students) had not been a particularly grand request. It wasn't even a request! It was a necessity for the sake of his healthy and sanity.

His health in particular, he thought ruefully as a giant sneeze racked his entire body.

The walk from those alluring dorms, where his best friend Dustin would be living, to the cheap and towering student apartment complex off-campus seemed to take a lifetime. A very damp, cold lifetime.

Shoving his water-bloated suitcase through the building doors required Herculean effort and when it abruptly popped inside, Erik tripped at the sudden lack of resistance.

He lay on the floor of the entrance hall for several minutes, smelling mud and wet carpet uncaringly as the abrupt blast of warm, dry heat made the little foyer appear a tropical island when contrasted with the storm outside. He would have been content to life on the filthy carpet for the remainder of the day, as long as warm air surrounded him on all other sides, had it not been for the clearing of a voice above him.

With great reluctance, Erik opened one eye and twisted his head upward, only to find himself staring at a pair of nostrils. “Are you perhaps aspiring to be the building's new carpet, young man? I fear you won't stretch even the length of the first floor hallways,” said the nostrils.

Erik blushed and scrambled to his feet, bracing himself on the top of the suitcase. “Uh, no, sir . . .”

“What a relief,” said the nostrils, which turned into a wiry young man with a face that served as the backdrop to his nose, once Erik was standing, and thin lips pulled into what might have been a smile. “You would never go with the walls.”

Erik sneezed twice as the owner of the nostrils watched in silence. Wiping his nose with the back of his hand and sniffing deeply, he said, his voice filling with helplessness: “I'm supposed to be living here, I think . . .”

The nostrils turned to look at a computer screen half-visible behind the counter. “Name?”

Erik approached the counter, craned his head to look at the screen, and dripped on several papers. “Thorbiornsen. Thorbiornsen, S. I just need to pick up my keys, I think everything else has been taken care of.” He was seized with a sudden fear that he had somehow gotten lost in the rain, that he was in the wrong building, and vowed that if it was so, he would just take up residence in one damp corner of the foyer.

As his mind was busily concocting all sorts of stories that would spring up to explain the gangling Beggar of the Foyer, something jingled and hit Erik in the forehead. “Thorbiornsen, S,” said the nostrils. “You're in room 306.”

“Thanks.” Erik gathered the keys in slippery fingers, seized his suitcase with the other hand, and made his escape to the hall and the elevator, where he could drip in miserable peace.

Tired, wet, and increasingly annoyed at the universe, Erik noted little about his surroundings as he made his way to apartment 306 beyond the fact that 'ugly' would be a good, all-encompassing word for it. He spent countless minutes jamming each of the several keys given to him by the nostrils into the lock, rattling the handle, until he got to the final key on the ring.

Erik wondered if he had the energy to jam all the keys up the nostrils when the lock clicked and the door swung open. Breathing in relief, he stooped to drag his suitcase the few final steps when a strangled cry came from within the apartment and a short figure shot out the door, knocking Erik onto his back.

Erik swore, pushed himself up until his shoulders off the ground, and stared into a pair of dancing brown eyes and a massive grin.

He wondered if therapists offered student discounts.