“Not again”, I think, my shoulders unconsciously slumping forward as I steel myself for the inevitable conversion to follow. For a split second, I imagine myself melting into the hot New York City sidewalk, morphing like Keanue Reeves in the Matrix and sliding down into the grime and cigarette butts that make up the fabric of these iconic city streets. That would be far preferable to the conversation that is sure to follow.

“Claire? Claire Delaney, is that you?” 

“Yes, it’s me”, I managed a small, close-close lipped smile and silently hoped whoever this person was would suddenly get hit by a messenger bike.  

“Wow! I barely recognized you! It’s Kimmy Adams, from Robert Half Recruiting. We worked  together to fill a few accounting positions at your firm last year. I heard you weren’t there anymore.” Kimmy paused as she glanced  at my dinghy, oversized t-shirt that stated  “Need More Coffee” while she pulled the pieces of the story from her memory banks. 

I glanced down at the brown stain on the front of of my t-shirt, which was ironically not from coffee as one might assume, but from the beer I shotgunned at Ray’s Pub an hour ago. “Yeah, it didn’t work out at Penderton.” I pause and consider how little I can say to make this conversation end. “I’m in between jobs right now.”