BLOOMINGTON, IN—A mere six hours after you got drunk and made out with her at your eighth-floor party, that weird girl you may have incoherently professed love for is standing outside your dorm room door. According to your new roommate looking out the peephole, the girl—whose name remains unknown—is currently scrawling a message on your dry-erase board and smiling. "Dude, you are so fucked," said your roommate, who proceeded to fill in your somewhat-hazy recollection of what the girl, who may be stalking you, looks like. At press time, it is unclear when she will clear the hallway and allow you to leave for your Psych 201 class.