At first, I don’t notice the creeping shadow cast by my towering roommate, now gawking over my shoulder to sneak a look at the text. Her accidental impression of Biscuit’s labored panting does the trick. “Riley,” I ask, glaring back to her now aloof expression, apparently looking anywhere but down at my phone. “Riley! Why is Becca messaging me? And why is my ex-girlfriend calling me ‘gurl’?”

“Uhhhm ehehehe,” she laughs, “That’s…just how people talk in the future?” The nervous woman turns to her own phone and starts tapping rapidly.

“Who are you texting?” I ask her backside. She raises the screen high and out of sight, “Who am I…Oh, just the uhh, the weatherman.” Riley continues tapping the quickly, “He says it’s gonna be a real scorcher today… You’d think they make deodorant for under your boobs by now, right?”