THE INTERVIEW -SHORT FICTION

Untitled Part 1

"This might sound bold," she said as she squeezed her shirt in her hands. "Do you think I might just have a little slice? It doesn't have to be too big, just a little slice of that bread. Maybe it will stop the intense pain."

This lady is unreal!

"That is bold. Listen, lady, Saint Ann's kitchen is three blocks from here. Go get yourself a handout and stop peddling. This is a place of business, not the street."

"I am sorry. I am sorry," she said as her sniffling grew louder.

I continued typing, and at some point, she left.

Within minutes, a lady balancing a baby and a toddler took the seat next to me. The waiting room was empty at this point.

"None of the other seats were open?" I laid on the sarcasm.

The lady crouched next to the chair, her gigantic diaper bag weighing down one shoulder and a screaming baby on the other. Great. This will be fun. The toddler took the seat next to mine and immediately shoved a toy in my face. Meanwhile, the lady dropped a bottle on the ground, and milk spilled everywhere.

"What you doin'?" The toddler said, almost leaning into my lap. The baby screamed as the lady tried to balance it and looked through her bag for something to clean up the mess.

She looked at me. "I am sorry to bother you. But I just spilled Evie's bottle everywhere, and I can't find any of my burp cloths to clean it up. Would you mind if I used that towel right there?" She pointed to Mom's towel wrapped around the bread.

"I am sure you can find a bathroom somewhere with towels."

Her face dropped. "Well, I'd have to walk around, and well," She looked at my stone face. "Okay."

"Pull up, Baby Shark," the toddler said as his hand dipped toward my keyboard. I sharply blocked it and pushed his hand away.

"Don't touch!" I had to stop myself from shouting. I hate kids.

"Come on, Michael, we need to go find a bathroom," the lady said to her son. Meanwhile, the baby continued screaming shriller. I rubbed my temples. Just my luck. All these freaks to spike my nerves before my interview. I looked at my watch.

"I no wanna go. I wanna stay with my friend," the toddler said.

"I am not your friend," I growled lowly.

The lady tried to take her son's hand, but he yanked his arm away and scooted closer to me. They repeated this for several rounds, and then she looked at me.

"Would you mind watching Michael just for a minute or two? I will quickly get some towels and return."

"This isn't a daycare, Lady."

"Oh." She tightly grabbed Michael's hand and almost dragged him across the waiting room as he kicked and fought her while her baby seemed close to slipping out of her hands.

More people filled the waiting room, and at least the spilled milk kept people from sitting by me. At some point, the lady returned and cleaned it while I kept working. An hour had passed when an old man wobbled in and exerted great effort to take the seat next to me.

What, do I have a sign that says friendly?

The old man shuffled in his seat and tried to lean his crutches next to him, but of course, one slipped and knocked me on the head.

"Do you mind?" I shoved it back at him, landing on the floor beside his prosthetic leg. He awkwardly leaned over and fumbled until he just left it there.