Alright, Christine.

The boy at the front desk was leading her down a long hall with cruel fluorescent lighting to the back office.

You're going to nail this interview. You look presentable, your teeth have been whitened—

He stopped and turned before a door.

You're going to get this job and then you'll finally be earning enough to make do.

His hand twisted the doorknob.

You'll no longer be spit on by customers and coworkers. For once your hard work will be appreciated.

He pushed the door open and leaned in. "Mr. Dickens? This girl's here for her interview."

Christine frowned. She had a name and she had told him too.

She couldn't hear any voice from the room. The boy widened the door and turned to her, gesturing for her to go in.

She remembered talking to Mr. Dickens on the phone. He was obviously an older man, his tone rather revealing about his arrogant nature. When she stepped into the doorway, she felt a strange bought of panic surge through her.

Mr. Dickens was a hefty, balding man in his mid-sixties. Some men of his age might've read as a grandfather type—the ones with friendly smiles that brought warmth to those around them. Mr. Dickens, however, had a smile lacking of any good intent. On the surface, he might've appeared friendly, but there was something about him that chilled Christine to the bone.

She kept her smile, stepping forward to shake his hand as he stood to greet her.

"Christine," she said.

"Nice to meet you, Christine."

She didn't like the sound of her name across his tongue, but she ignored her inner call to run, run and never come back.

The door behind her shut in a startling slam, and for a moment her smile faltered.

His hand lingered at hers for almost a moment too long before he let go and gestured her to sit. Christine did so accordingly, resisting her desire to cringe as the springs in the beige-colored sofa creaked.

"So, Christine," he paused to sigh and fold his hands in his lap, his smile dropping to a look of professional inquisition, "why do you want to work front desk?"

Christine smiled enthusiastically. This was a question she had prepared herself for. "Well," she began, "I love working with people. Nothing makes me happier than to please others and make their day."

Again, that discomforting smile returned to his face. He shifted in his seat, acting like he was looking at something important, but Christine could see it was some receipt for the greasy bag of Wendy's sitting on the far side of his desk. "Didn't you happen to say something about having other experience in the workforce?"

She smiled. He remembered their phone call. "Yes."

"Tell me about that." He folded his hands back, returning to his relaxed position.

Christine had trouble keeping eye contact. "I've worked as a waitress for the past ten years."

Mr. Dickens nodded. "So you think working the front desk will be an easy transition for you?"

Christine regretted the fact she shrugged in response. She was supposed to remain confident in her answers—yes or no, then elaborate if need be. "I think I'm perfect for the job because I know how to handle customers well."

You think, Christine?! You know! She hated what she was saying. It seemed with each job interview her confidence dropped another level. Was she truly worthy of this job?

Mr. Dickens frowned slightly.

"I-I just know what the customers want. I'm empathetic, I love to please customers and ease their frustrations."

She wanted to cry. Run, cry, hide—get away. She wanted to be anywhere but here right now.

Mr. Dickens sighed loudly and carelessly tossed his receipt to the side, shifting awkwardly in his chair. "Well, Christine," he paused to clear his throat, "there are a lot of other people who want this job. Why should I hire you?"

Christine had already prepared herself for this question too, but it didn't help her from feeling the heat creep up her neck. "You should hire me because I'm reliable and hard-working. I love people and I'll do anything to please them." She felt like she was repeating herself, turning in circles with no end.

There was a pregnant pause as he pursed his lips, the gears grinding in his head. It wasn't until now that Christine finally realized she had lost her smile, but she didn't care to try and work it back. The interview was over. She was not getting this job.

"I'll keep you in mind, Christine. You may go."

A wave of relief greeted her when she left the room, and she found she could breathe much more easily in her car. This had been her seventh job interview in the past two months and not even the most desperate of places seemed to want her. No callbacks, no hope. She was upset after the first few interviews. She thought she had nailed it, she thought they'd see potential in her, but the silence of her phone suggested otherwise.

Christine waited until she was home and in her sweatpants to call her friend Meg. It was either she confided in her or that cheap bottle of wine she had purchased the weekend before, but Meg always knew how to cheer her up better than a next-morning migraine.

"Christine! How'd it go?"

She smiled. There was almost a sense of confidence in her friend's voice. Meg believed in her at least. Christine sighed as she slouched down on the sofa. "I'm not getting the job."

Meg whined into her ear, more upset about how the interview went than Christine was herself. "What are you gonna do now, Chris?"

"Give up," she replied, laughing half-heartedly.

She could hear Meg's eye-roll. "Oh, c'mon! There's gotta be a job out there for you!"

"Yeah, one at the ol' rib shack, serving needy customers food that will likely give them cardiac arrest within the next few months."

Meg snorted. "Somewhere else!"

Christine curled into the worn blanket she always kept strewn over the back of the couch. "I'm tired of searching, Meg. I think I need to take a break and recuperate for a while."

"I'm sure you do, Chris. What has this been? Your fifth job interview in the past three months?"

"Seventh. Two months."

Meg sighed as if she was exhausted for her. "I guess it's about time for you to start looking for a sugar daddy."

Christine broke into laughter. "As if I'd ever stoop so low!"

"Hey, you know what they say: when in doubt, sugar daddy out."

"Who says that?"

"I don't know, I just made it up."

"You're incomparable."

"I know."

The receiver fell to silence. "I miss Daddy."

There was a shaky intake of air on the other end. "I know you do, Chris."

She swallowed back the tears for a moment, focusing her attention on a loose thread in her blanket. "Some days are harder than others. I don't understand how some people do it."

"You just have to power through."

It was the same thing Meg had told her every day she had struggled since her father passed. She knew what she meant, but she wasn't sure she knew how. How could she carry on when the one person who had been there for her her entire life was gone?

"Don't you remember what you did when your mother passed?"

Christine shook her head. "I was too young to understand. I cried I guess."

"Then cry."

She exhaled and allowed the tears to fall.

"It's okay to cry, Chris. You need to."

"I know."

"I love you. Don't forget that."

She felt a solemn smile creep across her face. "I love you too."

Christine had been asleep on the couch for several hours after ending her call with Meg. She hated it when she fell asleep after sobbing. The drowsiness she experienced when she woke kept her from wanting to be productive, and her lack of productiveness sent her back into the depressing pit she was trying so desperately to climb out of.

She reached for the laptop on the coffee table in front of her, lazily positioning herself to sit up as she lifted the screen. The only two tabs she had open were Indeed and How to Snag a Job: Tips on Interviewing for the Position of Front Desk Agent. She closed them promptly, opening a new tab.

Finding a job was exhausting, especially for someone of her age. The scars from her current job had already taken a toll on her, and despite how hard she tried it never seemed she could get those dark circles beneath her eyes to disappear. She wasn't sure how she had remained so positive after all the mistreatment. She just wanted to get out.

S-U

She wasn't sure if she cared what happened to her now. Never in all her life had she felt so alone, so hopeless. She wanted a new life, she wanted to live somewhere else, she wanted everything to just stop being the way it was. She needed something new.

G-A-R

Meg made it into Julliard and landed her dream job in the New York City Ballet. Their phone calls were the closest she ever seemed to get to her, if her friend even had the time to talk. Making new friends didn't seem like an option considering no one even wanted to make eye contact with her at work. Going out to a club alone just to meet some new people seemed dangerous in itself.

D-A

Raoul was somewhere overseas, probably married or engaged to a woman who was actually capable of handling a long-distance relationship. Some days she missed what they had. She missed their late-night talks, the way he looked at her like she was the only thing he ever wanted and held her as if letting go meant losing her forever. Sometimes she wished he had held her tighter.

D-D-Y

And Dad was gone. Well, not entirely gone. He still lived in the photographs framed on their walls, in the hospital bills that arrived at her door. But the life he provided was gone. The life, the love, laughter and comfort. It was funny now that she actually broke it down: the only people she ever loved were either dead or far away and there was nothing she could do about it.

Seeking Men and Women

Christine clicked on the link and redirected to a dating site.

Sign up for free!

She absentmindedly entered her information. Her name, gender, email, phone number, address. She set up her biography, added a few photographs from a time when she wasn't in a filthy apron or sweatpants, a link to her inactive YouTube channel back when she posted covers to her favorite songs. She didn't think about what she was doing, all she knew was that she was tired—

Done

And that she didn't care.