For the past few weeks I had a flatmate, a friend and collegue of mine who was in need of a couch he could crash on every now and then. He leads a busy life too, so I actually didn't see him that often. I trusted him with my second set of keys so that it was easier for both of us to come and go. When we were both at home we'd share stories over beers and pizza in the kitchen area.
Yesterday he left for the States, somewhere in Texas. This morning I found the keys he had left on the table that fits no more than a toaster and a coffee mashine. They made me think about the flatmates I've had in the past. There was my brother when I grew up, but I don't think that he really counts. I thought about the others and realized that he was the best roommate I've ever had.
When I first came to Seoul in 2004 I had a friend who stayed at my place for a short time. One day we went on a trip and he pissed me off. I told him to move out the next day and haven't spoken to him ever since. In Germany I had a girl flatmate who turned out to be a bitch. She pissed me off and I moved out. I had four flatmates in London, including two Indian girls. Guess what happened.
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