Elise stood outside the job centre on the curb, clasping her bag in both hands nervously. It was her first one, perhaps leading the way to a second and a third and maybe even her dream job.

The night before, in her tiny studio on the dilapidated estate, she sat on her bed, which also doubled up as a sofa since she couldn’t fit much in her flat and watched TV. That night she hadn’t eaten anything as money was short which was perhaps the only reason that pushed her into applying for the job. The TV was the only light in her room, flashing dull colours against the wall and reflecting off the raindrops that trickled down her window like tears that illuminated her saddened face. The people on the TV had what she wanted: a big house, a family, a pet, food, hope, happiness.

Then the small pit of guilt in her stomach crawled out from within her. Should she plan for her interview? It would be better and then she would be prepared. The plan seemed reasonable but then a second voice came. It told her she didn’t need to do anything, she would wait for something to change, she would numb her feeling with TV, she would let her dream come to her, everything would be fine. The first voice drifted away and the pit of guilt got larger, eating her writhing within her. But instead she sat and watched TV as the night got darker and the rain hammered harder and she wished for more and more.

Elise stood outside the job centre staring at the rotting leaves that had turned over beneath her feet. She hadn’t prepared one bit for her interview. The despair grew vast and consumed her and the second voice crept in and told her to go home, to wait for another day, another chance, that her time would come. But it never did.