Second Chance At Forever

t's always like a dream that could never come through. The hardest part is that I have been sitting in the lobby of this art gallery for over two hours now, waiting to break the sarcasm

m each. "Your file," she suddenly said without raising her head, and to say I wasn't startled will be a lie. "Uhm...yeah," I fumbled for words, bringing out my file from the file jacket and handing it over to her. "Kindly introduce yourself," still not raising her head. I mean, it doesn't hurt to see the interviewer's face. I postured myself well like I was about to take a polaroid shot and began. "I'm Caroline Twain, a 20-year-old college student. I'm in my third year in college but I need a job to continue the funding of my studies. I have been an artist since I was in high school. Growing from presenting a piece for my school's art exhibition to submitting art to a museum. I have been an intern in a fine art gallery for six months now and I have 3 paintings which are yet to receive the appalling literal recognition but..." I was cut short and then, she raised her head. Not the face I was expecting though. I was expecting a quite strict face but was graced with a calm yet serious face that made her brunette look impeccably gorgeous. "Why do you think your three paintings didn't receive the recognition it needed?" "With no doubt, I believe to be an expert in what I do which is meant to be crowned with..." "Miss..." she looked down at my file on the table before she continued. "Miss Caroline Twain. A straightforward answer, please," she said, yet calmly and I was starting to get terrified. The fear that this whole interview could end up like the ones in the past gripped me. "Uhm... I think..." "You think or you're certain? Speak with some certainty, Miss Twain," now, her face was back to

ned it but I found an unfamiliar face. "Hi," she said with an extremely beautiful smile. "Hi," I answered with a questioning look. "May I come in?" she asked and I was immediately taken back. The audacity was beyond me but still, I let her in. Her smile was really beautiful. She had this fun demeanor demonstrated in every of her act. Though, she looked a little stylish and girly. She had nerdy glasses attached to her eyes and a pixel-cut hairstyle tinted in pink. She's probably around 5,5 or 5'6, a little taller than I was and a little slimmer. She wore a pink crop top revealing a reasonable amount of her lower belly. She complemented it with cargo pants and pink crocs. She looked like she knew a few right things about fashion. "You have a nice apartment," she complimented after looking around like she had been in my room before now and was looking for a thing she had lost. "Uhmm... Thanks but who are..." I was cut short by her scream. "OMG! You paint? This is a very beautiful piece. What does this illustrate?" she pointed to the paint I had shown at my job interview. "Hold on. Who are you again?" I finally asked. "Oh my... Pardon my courtesy," she said like such a nonchalant attitude could be pardoned. "I'm Clara, Clara Jones. I just moved in. I am your next-door neighbor. I never knew I could get apartments off-campus. I have lived all my life in the dorm," she explained with a scowl and I still could not point out how I should be affected. "I'm Caroline Twain," I replied, trying so hard to play nice to the stranger. "Now that we've gotten past the introductory part. Could you explain to me what this painting means, Carol?" she said and I immediately disliked her. Who enters a person's apartment unannounced and calls them Carol? I scoffed and