The Painting I Called 'You'

Ch-1: Interview

Kaiser 

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"Koa, get the fuck up," a sharp voice ordered, and my duvet was promptly pulled off. My foot shot out to kick my roommate, which he, unfortunately dodged with practiced precision.

"You're thirty minutes behind schedule," he said boredly, and that got me up.

"I'm what?" I stumbled clumsily out of bed. 

I had a fucking interview. 

"You didn't think to wake me up earlier jackass?" I yelled while fumbling with my toothpaste.

"I'm not your mom!" his snappy reply came, muffled by the closed door. 

I cursed him out the whole time I took to get ready, which was thankfully, fifteen minutes.

Theo had the audacity to offer me breakfast with a big grin, I took an apple off the table and glared at him, "Shove that spatula far, far up your ass,"

Maybe I'd make it on time if I ran. I checked my watch, panic flaring my chest, I needed this job. Without a government job there was no way the rest of the plan would work. But I had only fifteen minutes to my interview, and I wouldn't get a chance if I was late.

Honestly, who even holds interviews for recruiting soldiers?

My hope of making it on time was short lived when I bumped into a girl, who spilt her searing hot coffee all over me, I cursed at the burns that were sure to form.

The girl looked at me with wide eyes, "I'm so, so sorry-" she began, my eyes flicked to the time.

There was around ten minutes left.

"Save it," I sighed, there was no point now, anyway. Even if I ran, and even if I made it on time, I had coffee all over me. That was enough to make a bad impression.

"No, please! Wait, let me make it up to you- or at least give you something for the burns!" I heard her exclaim.

I refused again, assuring her that I'd be fine, I wasn't even in the mood to get angry at some girl who spilt searing hot coffee on me now.

But, God, she was insistent. I followed her to her car just so she would shut up. 

My eyes widened when I saw the vehicle she drove, she barely looked twenty and was driving around a car that even some of the elitists didn't own. 

She offers me some kind of cream; I take it from her and pull my coffee soiled shirt off. My skin was already red and irate. The girl's widened and she promptly averted her gaze.

Right, I shouldn't have just pulled my shirt off like that. But since she didn't address it, I didn't bother apologizing. 

After a few moments she spoke, "You seemed to be in a rush,"

I sighed, I can't believe I was going to tell her why, "I had an interview,"

Her eyes turned guilty as if on cue, she bit her bottom lip before she spoke again, "I- am so sorry, what interview was it?"

"One of those soldier recruitment ones," I tell her, capping the tube of cream and handing it back. Her eyes light up at the words, "Oh! That's good!"

I glare at her, "No- no not like that, I mean- I can-" she takes a moment, and a deep breath, before she speaks again, "Do you want me to get you the post?"

"You...what?" I say in disbelief. Was she crazy? They didn't accept people who were late by even a minute, I was late by much more. What was she going to do about it?