Strange Company

I'm sitting at the table sipping a wine that I don't really care for- it's fruity, sweet, overpoweringly simple and inelegant. I'm here with my roommates- talking (yes, me talking) with both of them; usually I only hang out with one at a time, they're too much for me - a pairing of convenience more than desire. The music that is playing is not to my taste; always something vaguely irritating, (I had a conversation with my friend once; he said that similar music interest should be a requirement for roommates) like country or dance-type stereotypical music. Somehow, though, it all feels right - the idea that we've reached the end, that we're moving on but we are comfortable with each other. It's this very weird feeling of everything not fitting all at once, and when we all realize it- it makes so much sense. Then we go our separate ways, the feelings lost irrevocably; we'll have forgot by morning.