The Truth Lies Behind the Mask

2

She fiddled with the skirt of her dress nervously, trying desperately to distract herself from the quiet confidence of the other women in the waiting area, and trying to clear her mind. Nearly a week had passed since Nathalie offered to schedule an interview. Sure enough, Mr. Agreste had already been planning to execute multiple interviews in a day, and he allowed her to squeeze onto the schedule at the last minute. 

She looked at the manila folder in her lap, containing her pitiful excuse of a resumé and the best portraits of herself she could find. She could barely even call it a portfolio. She just wanted to tear it to shreds and go home; at least that way she wouldn't embarrass herself.

Her hands were shaky and ridiculously sweaty from her nerves. Remember to wipe your hands off on your skirt before you inevitably have to shake his hand, Emilie! Even though she had conversations with herself daily about things such as this in attempt to calm herself, they almost always resulted in more anxiety. She was, however, very proud of herself for not tearing up yet. This was a new record for her! The probability of her making a fool out of herself and crying during the interview was still very high, though. 

The room was terribly quiet, so much so that Emilie could hear the sharp, shrill ticking of the clock mounted on the adjacent wall. She desperately needed a distraction. She scanned the room, finally deciding to settle with counting the floor tiles. At least that would give her something to do for the time being.

One, two, three, four,

The ticking started to fade from her mind. 

Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, 

The deafening silence was no longer an issue.

Fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine...

"Ms. Durant?" Emilie snapped out of her daze. She looked to her left, and Nathalie was standing  in the half opened door of Mr. Agreste's office. She smiled as Emilie stood and briskly walked through the waiting room, her clicking heels against the tile the only sound gracing the room. Nathalie's smile was  the only solace in the situation. Emilie didn't understand why, but Nathalie truly seemed to believe in her, and her efforts didn't go unappreciated. 

She stopped her for a moment at the door, whispering words of encouragement. "Don't worry," she said, "I'll be with you in the room the whole time as I was asked to provide second opinions on each interview. You'll do great, I know you will." 

Emilie smiled weakly in response, still absolutely terrified of what was to come as she was led into the office.

The office, like the rest of the building. was absolutely massive; it was probably around the same size as her entire apartment. It was beautiful, which wasn't exactly typical of an office. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting in the first place. Maybe something a little more... disorganized? While she knew all too well from Nathalie's accounts that disorganized was not a word in Mr. Agreste's vocabulary, it was still almost shocking to see any room as well kept as this one. No one should have ever allowed the clumsy woman to come within fifty meters of this room. 

The entire back wall was composed of floor to ceiling windows, blanketing the room in a warm orange glow as evening came and the sun began its journey out of their view.  Covering the middle of the room was a looming shadow that sent a chill down Emilie's spine as the sense of foreboding washed over her. She swallowed hard, and looked up at what had been blocking the sunlight.

Sitting at a grand desk in an equally as grand office chair was none other than Mr. Gabriel Agreste himself. Wonderful, everything about him was threatening. How pleasant. While he was a very thin man, she could tell he was very tall, even though he was sitting. His shoulders were broad, making him seem much larger and that much more intimidating. His sharp, square jawline brought everything together into one scary, yet well put together, mess.

She was led to the middle of the room, and a hand extended from behind the desk. The man's voice was muffled; at least that was how her brain was processing it. She shook his hand before sitting down in one of the chairs in front of him.

Shit... she thought. The dissatisfied look on Mr. Agreste's face reminded the woman all too late that she had not wiped her hands. Because of this, she figured that she was doomed from the start.

k yall I'm not really one for author's note things but dear lord i'm sorry this took so long. I couldn't figure out what I should do and how I should go about the interview... and as you can see I just gave up completely... yeet.