“So, everything I’ve read about you is great. I’m really just here to put a face to your name.” said Dom-the-Stanford-admissions-guy.
I smiled nervously, thinking of something to say. The room was hot, and I suddenly forgot the way I rehearsed how to sit. Straight posture with my hands in my lap? One leg over the other? Body slightly tilted to the left? The right? Was I allowed to use the armrests, or was that unprofessional?
“Thanks,” I finally replied, dumbly.
“Mr. Moreau, you’re looking tense, relax, I just want to get an idea of you as a person.”
“Sorry,” I apologized. For what?
“For what? Don’t apologize,” replied Dom-the-Stanford-admissions-guy, voicing my thoughts.
“Sorry,” I found myself apologizing again. “I mean, uh, not sorry, but like, I just meant, I just— never mind.”
Dom laughed, but it seemed to be more in pity of my embarrassment, not because he was particularly amused.
Idiot, idiot, idiot.
The rest of the interview went somewhat smoothly, Dom asking me questions, me answering them robotically. I tried to loosen up, but in result of trying to multitask by appearing loose and drinking water at the same time, my shaky hands betrayed me, and I ended up spilled my water on my crotch.
God, Lucas, you should’ve used the armrests.
YOU ARE READING
* Twice in a Lifetime
Short StoryWhen Luke is inexplicably given a second chance to make The Day right, he takes it. I mean, who wouldn't? But there's always a catch, isn't there.
