As Ben looked at this boy’s face, it seemed entirely clear, easy, and Ben realized that his own face, which he was trying to keep so implacable, was instead every moment betraying his doubt and fear, his desperate anticipation, and his tremendous effort to conceal his doubt and fear and anticipation. Even as Ben knew with finality that this was his roommate, he was also convinced that this kid was in the wrong room.

The worker kneeling over the chop saw noticed Ben first. He looked up, then stood and let his hands come to his sides in a vaguely military way. “Hello,” the man said very deliberately to Ben while looking at the boy at the desk. The other worker turned around and automatically held the hammer in front of him with both hands.

The boy lifted his gaze from the map and looked at Ben as though he had just come out of a cellar into the warm sun. Most of the time, when Ben met new people, it didn’t occur to him right away whether he liked them or not; he almost always only thought of whether they liked him. But Ben knew that this kid was going to like him, and even without any intention to take advantage of that fact, he felt cruel. The boy stood up quickly and the chair teetered on its back legs. The nearer worker made a move to steady it, but after an instant it rocked back upright.

“Ben! You are Ben! I’m Ahmed! Ahmed Al-Khaled.”

“Ahmed, hi!”

They shook hands, and when the time came to let go, Ahmed kept holding on with a grip that was at once tight and girlish. He was plump but not heavy.

“I looked at your picture in the student directory.” His accent was British, but lightly so, as though each word had just come out of its packaging.

“I composed letters to you but I could not finish them properly.” Ahmed vocalized his p’s slightly so that they sounded more like b’s, and there was a slight flutter in each of his r’s. “You are just the roommate I had imagined, just what I had hoped for.”

Ahmed saw Ben’s stillness, his gray eyes and careful smile, and it seemed so much more appropriate than the overflowingness of home. But also there was surprising worry in Ben.

“Good, yeah,” said Ben, and finally managed to get his hand free. He looked at the workers and what was happening to the room, and Ahmed followed his gaze. He looked back to Ben and then seemed to realize that something needed to be said. “Ah—Ben, this is Hector and…Benito?” The man who was Benito nodded, and both workmen smiled to reveal compromised teeth.