Come over.  I'll clean my apartment, for you.

I'm eating noodles alone for the nth time and I'm not too sure what brought me to this point.  When you're growing up the people around you want to help you create a vision: for college, a job.  OK, I made it from point a to point b.  When they ask you what you want to be when you grow up, you don't really think about how you'll fill the other time in your life.  What happens when you get home?  How do you fill your time?  Who will you share the sound of the refrigerator humming at night with?

Your apartment starts to echo.  Or rather, it never stopped because it's always been a little empty.  You thought you wanted this.  You do the dishes, dully.  You clean up, you clean yourself up, you take someone home in a moment of mutual vulnerability, and they leave and the fridge is still humming.