a's
e to stay. The manager sitting across from me hadn't looked up from his tablet in a full minute. He was scrolling through somethin
ience working the register, bussin
glued to the screen. "We'll
ming. No fake smile. Just a brus
g the straps of my backpac
to the sunlight like someone waking up from a bad dream. The streets were busy,
lines were already crossed out. The cafés, the bookstores, the diners that had smiled polite
h growled but I didn't have time for lunch. Not with rent
s supposed to figure that out. I'd known it wasn't going to be easy starting over,
t want to think about. I came here to breathe. To build something from
or that. Mr. Tall, Grumpy, and Condescending. He probably thought I was sleeping on gold sheets just beca
e edge of downtown. I'd written it down on a whim, not thinking I'd ac
d air wrapped around me. Everything smelled like lemon polish and money. A woman behind the front desk blinke
posting," I said, tryi
curtain for a minute before returning with a man in a suit so
look at me
or someone more
was
nore the heat crawling up my n
r eyes on my back. Judging. Dismissing. Like I was some
eyes swept over me, pausing on my clothes, my hair, my visible discomfort, told me everything I needed to know before he even opened his mouth. I wasn't what they wanted. Not clean-cut, not elegant, not invisible enough to blend in. I felt like an unwanted smudge on a perfectly polished window. It wasn't just this place, either. Every interview, every rejection felt like a tiny crack forming inside me, slowly spreading across my resolve. I was trying. God, I was trying so hard. But no
say you don't want someone with scarlet
g of rejection settling into my bones. Seven reje
uffed with cotton. I fumbled with the key and pushed the door open, expecting
ad, I
power suit magazine. Her skirt was black and pencil-straight. Her blouse was buttoned all the way up. Her heels we
just broken in. Her eyes n
pped. "And what exactl
ught complete
r. My entire day rushed through m
pened my mou
words go