As the elevator opens, I watch the smartly dressed passengers walk past me. I get on and push the eleventh floor. I really want to take a deep breath, but I’m not sure about how my breath smells, and I don’t have mints. Great, now I’m sweating. The elevator stops at four, five, seven, nine, then eleven. Stepping out, I try to find the directory in the floor lobby. There it is: Jenkins and Associates, CPAs, suite 1115. I take a long inhale, like dragging a cigarette, and a long exhale, and turned toward the hall.

It seemed to go on forever. My anxiety was rising but I had to do this. It’s the best prospect I’ve had in a long time, and if I don’t land this job, I’ll be homeless in less than a month. This place represented a do over, a way to get on my feet and stay there. When I reached the door, I said a small prayer, straightened my back, and went inside.