I sat over a cigarette and a local newspaper at the kitchen table. I was going over the classifieds. I shifted my notepad and glasses and reached for my coffee mug. It tipped over, because of course it did. I flicked the cigarette in the ashtray and dapped a cloth on the warm liquid spreading across the dark, finished wood. I cursed as though the cup could hear the glare in my voice. I noticed the coffee spread over the job I’d applied for last week. It was an alternative middle school position. Maybe coffee pooling on the job I’d wanted was a sign. I’d convinced myself it was, and I phoned the secretary to see if they’d reviewed my resume. It was a brief conversation. The pleasant woman arranged an eleven o’clock interview.

(© 2022 AC)

(Erica Orloff edited this short story.)

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