really want to get into anyone else's personal space, but she didn't have m
looked as nervous as Mia felt. It was a tight squeeze because the chairs were so close together. With her small build, it was easy to wedge her way in, but it was still uncomfortable. She sat
ve redhead sitting across the room stood up and walked to the door her head held high as if she had plenty of
other. She'd had to support both of them, too, and she'd done that by working as a cashier at a gas station near their home in a suburb of Chicago. But now th
e didn't get. She knew she wouldn't be able to sell water to a man dying in the dessert, and she wouldn't want to clean up af
as a secretarial opening at Whitaker and Whitaker Marketing Firm, she'd called right away. That was yesterday. They'd told her to be there at 3:00 today, and she'd arrived at
y as confident walking back this way as she had when she was headed in. A f
rt skirt, and the top three buttons of her blouse were unbuttoned. Sh
the door before the woman looked
ut then she turned and slunk away. The woman shut the door, and Mia sucked in ai
g when she'd left her apartment. It seemed to be holding up even though she'd spent a great deal of time at a coffeeshop trying to find other places to apply. The white button down shirt she wore was her own, but she
man shouted, the door
for a moment, but then another girl walked in, checked with recep
by her feet, and all she could think about was the worn spot on the leather toward the zipper. She alm
her binder. She pulled her purse over her arm and tucked the binder under her arm and approach
and down, huffed, and gestu
door, praying she hadn't already ruined her