Eleanor Holloway was staring at the wall in her room. The wallpaper was a bright yellow, which she gratefully detested.

It reminded her of a short story by Charlotte Perkins Gilman, about a young woman with mental health issues, who has to spend all day inside because of her controlling husband, who is a physician. The woman slowly loses her mind, starting to hallucinate a woman in the yellow wallpaper and tries to set her free.

The story has influenced the American feminist literature a grand deal and has always left an impression on Eleanor.

The woman had been stripped of her rights and her husband had developed a disability to listen to what she was talking.

The way women had been or are treated still messed with Eleanor's head. It made her feel infuriated, that even here in a modern and progressive culture, she had to experience sexism, even if it was just the light form of condescending comments.

Eleanor didn't let herself think about all the women in less progressive countries, because that actually could drive her into insanity. The fact that she was completely powerless in other people's wrongdoings made her cross.

Voices in front of her room started to become loud and she decided to take a look at what was going on.

Carefully she opened up her door and peaked her head out to see Toral and Sutton talking.

"There's a rainbow!" Toral stated excitedly and popped her head out of the small window. She was wearing her red pajamas, her long black hair was put into a messy bun.

Sutton sat down on the window sill casually and smiled at his friend. "I did that," he replied smug, his eyes were sparkling, because he was messing with Toral.

"No, you did not," Toral replied, cross. "You are not the gay fairy godmother, who can produce rainbows! You are even wearing a shirt from the science faculty at our school, you know how weather works."

"It's Marsha P. Johnson," he laughed, "She wants me to build her a shrine, can I build her a shrine? I feel like now that I have said it the gay gods will be angry with me, if I don't."

"I don't mind," Toral said, as long as it is in your room. "What do you actually even know about gay history? Johnson and Milk?"

"Who was the female prime minister?" he tried to get her back, crossing his arms. He was right next to the cacti he had bought.

"Margret fucking Thatcher," Toral replied. "What do you think I am, completely narrow-minded?"

"I don't think she would appreciate being called Margaret fucking Thatcher," Sutton threw in, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Oh, what does she prefer to be called then?" Toral asked back, putting her hands on her hips. "Any suggestions?"

"Maggie," he replied, "I'm sure she would be thrilled to be called that."

Eleanor decided not to listen any further to their conversation, there was something else that bugged her.

She looked at the door that had been locked yesterday evening, when Colette had brought him home.

The dark eyes of Eleanor were riveted on the handle. She could just enter and tell him to go away and leave docile Colette alone, but going wild on him wasn't the way this had to unfold.

Instead of entering his room, she entered Colette's and immediately she could smell the scent of vanilla diffusers and camomile tea, the scent Colette carried with her.

Eleanor sat down on the edge of Colette's bed, who was slowly waking up. She was wearing a soft velvet nightgown, which made her only look more like her ballerina mother.

The styles of the two clashed together, like their personalities. While Colette was tall and slim, often wearing dresses and blouses, keeping it simplistic and save, Eleanor much rather tried to experiment with colours and patterns, there were a lot of styles that fitted her curvy body.

"Colette," Eleanor said softly, "I need to tell you something."

Colette sat up on her bed, a small smile on her face, "What is it? Did you forget to buy milk again?" she asked, letting out a small laugh.

Eleanor sighed slightly. She hated to do this, she never liked to have a disagreement with Colette, but she knew she had to let her know her feelings on this matter. "No, we've got milk," she replied, "Actually, I was coming in here to talk to you about Kaspar."

Colette looked at her, a small frown on her face, "What about him? He's still here, right?" she checked, tilting her head.

"Yes, yes, he's here. That was actually the thing I wanted to talk to you about," she told her, taking in a breath, "It's just, are you sure we want him here? We don't even know who he is, or anything about him. I know we took a lot of care finding the perfect roommates when we moved here, and I just thought we would do the same now, instead of you taking in the first person you saw, like a stray puppy."

"Eleanor, he didn't have anywhere else to go. He can't live at his old place, for whatever reason, and none of his friends were answering. I couldn't just leave him there to sleep in the streets," Colette replied, her voice firm. Once Colette had made her mind up about something, it was difficult to make her change her opinion.

"I know that, but still. We don't know who he is, or why he didn't have anywhere to stay in the first place. I mean, he could be a criminal who is hiding from the law, or an ex-convict who escaped prison or something. I just thought we would want to check first, you know, so we know we're all safe," she explained.

"So you're saying I should have left him without a place to stay because of the small possibility that he could be a criminal?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

"No, that's not what I meant, I just thought this would be a group decision, that we would all get a say in who we chose," she told her, sighing, "I think Toral and Sutton feel the same way."

"I'm sorry," Colette replied, "But I couldn't just leave him there," she explained.

"I know you felt like you needed to help him. But Col, you can't just bring a random stranger into our house without consulting us and then expect us to be okay with it," she continued. "You said he tried to contact friends, do you know if they ever replied to him? If he could stay with them, it would be easier for all of us."

"I'm not kicking him out, El!" she replied, her voice sharper than before, "I invited him to stay, I'm not going to go up to him and tell him to leave."

"You don't have to kick him out, you could just enquire whether he had heard from his friends, the conversation could lead on from then," she suggested, running a hand through her hair.

"That's still kicking him out, you're just telling me to do it in an underhand way to make him think he came up with the idea himself," Colette pointed out, folding her arms, "I'm not doing that either."

Eleanor opened her mouth to respond, but she was cut off by Toral's voice, drifting in from the corridor. "Breakfast is ready! Come and get it now before Sutton eats it all."

Eleanor let out a sigh, standing up and looking at Colette, "We'll talk about this later," she told her, before turning on her heel and heading out of the room.