დ Elara დ
The clock on the station wall clicked like a leaky faucet. I sat under it with a paper cup that smelled like burnt beans, the vinyl chair stuck to my knees. Every time the interview door opened, I jerked up, then sank back down when I saw it wasn’t him.
“Do you need more coffee?” the receptionist asked without looking up.
“No, I am fine,” I said, and bent the rim of the cup until it creaked. They had said routine. A few questions. Easy. I stared at the door and told my lungs how to work. He had said yes to the interview right away. Cole had been calm about it, but what could be taking so long? I didn’t understand it. And then finally the door opened. I got to my feet when I saw that it was him. He was done. But as I stared at him, I knew almost immediately that something had
