As Mahala walked into the interview, she ran her tongue over her unbrushed teeth and thought shit.
Everything had gone wrong from the start.
The midnight power outage that reset the clocks and caused her to oversleep, the Google directions to the wrong building, the newly-discovered fact she was wearing mismatched shoes.
Close but no cigar, Chandit would have said, and laughed in the way that always made her feel things would work out.
You’re swimming upstream, he would tell her. Easy or not at all.
What would he say now, walking into her fourth interview in as many days?