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There weren't many benefits to being unemployed, but Fia decided that showering whenever she wanted was one of them. She realised this almost as soon as she moved in with her best friend, Sadie, who had to fight with her flatmates every morning to use the bathroom before work.

What a waste. Nine hundred pounds a month in rent and Sadie couldn't even piss when she had the urge.

These were the type of thoughts Fia often had during her mid-morning shower, a time when no respectable person would ever be getting clean because, of course, they'd be at their job. She was still working on that part of adult life.

After graduating from the University of Oxford, she'd thought the hardest part was over. Now that she had her shiny first-class degree, she'd assumed doors would start to open for her like they did for other people. People like Sadie.

She'd been wrong.

Fia wrapped a towel around herself and exited the bathroom. Another perk of being unemployed was that she didn't have to get dressed to wander around the flat. She could walk around stark naked if she really wanted to, which she didn't because (unlike Sadie's flatmates) she wasn't an exhibitionist.

She went into the kitchen and opened the fridge door. A container of what looked like lasagna stared at her from the top shelf. It wasn't Sadie's – she could tell because her friend always scrawled Fia's name on the lid in black marker pen. When she cooked, she made enough for multiple people and stored the remaining food without touching it. "You can help yourself to whatever you need," she'd said when Fia moved in.

Sadie was like that – kind, generous, never sanctimonious. She'd been that way with Fia since they'd found out they were roommates during freshers' week. Now they were graduates, but things hadn't changed; Sadie was still taking care of her, letting her crash on the sofa for free while she figured things out.

Fia stared at the leftovers. Her stomach growled. She tried not to pay attention to the downsides of unemployment, one of which was hunger. She couldn't afford to buy food when she wasn't making money. Like the mouse that lived in the cavity wall of their kitchen and came in through a hole behind the freezer, she'd mostly been living off odds and ends. Ritz crackers, pickles, slices of cheese thin enough that nobody would notice she'd taken them. Handfuls of cornflakes and pieces of bread. She'd lost more weight than she'd have liked. When she looked in the mirror, her hipbones protruded like harpoons, which she tried to cover up by wearing baggy tracksuit bottoms.

Another perk of unemployment: you didn't have to dress smart. Fia wasn't even sure that was a perk. Either way, it wasn't like she could ask Sadie for more help, and her family was out of the question.

Ritz it was. She grabbed the box and headed into the living room, shoving a handful of crackers into her mouth as she opened her laptop and started scrolling through rejection emails.

She'd lost count of the jobs she'd applied for over the past few months. Hundreds, probably. Marketing, PR, copywriting, events...she wasn't picky. She'd cycled through every job title she could think of that she was vaguely qualified for. Even though she'd interned at Sky Sports in her second year of uni, it still wasn't enough to land her a role. She wasn't being fussy about salaries, either. Being able to pay rent and buy food would be good enough, though you had to hit the jackpot to do that comfortably in London.

She scanned her email account, feeling numb. We're sorry to inform you...Thank you for your interest...You were a strong candidate, but unfortunately, at this time, we've chosen to go in another direction...

Unfortunately. It was a word that always irked Fia. Why did companies insist on saying it? It wasn't unfortunate for them; they'd picked their preferred candidate. 

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