The Interview

Sometimes life deals you situations where the only choice you get in it, is which one of your arms you want chopped off.

And that's one reason why life sucks.

Those are my first thoughts—for some reason—when I step into the ginormous, fancy New York building. For my first unofficial job interview.

I know nothing about the job itself but it asked for young, clever people, who have no definite social ties. Meaning, lonely people whom no one would miss.

The pay is high as a drug addict. Or at least supposed to be...

The moment I step into the building, an warm, welcoming aura hits me. A light smile creeps on my face as I get a chance to escape from the chilly grey of February.

I head towards the lift when I realize the cold, hard fact. Scared of small spaces.

My direction changes to the stairs, when I recall my destination is on the 12th floor.

Ignoring my claustrophobia, I step into the tiny box of an elevator and press twelve, inhaling deeply and shutting my eyes.

When I enter the desired lounge area, I seat myself in one of the armchairs, waiting for a text that is supposed to explain more about my upcoming interview.

This lounge is at least 12,000 square feet with three giant windows and several comfortable armchairs.

Bzzzz...Bzzzz...

The text simply says: Interview begins in ten minutes. Do not be late.

Great. Where the hell am I supposed to go? Should I go look for a room? Stay here?

Challenged by the unknown, I stay seated. I look around to see if anyone might look like an interviewer.

Precisely nine minutes later, I get up to make my way towards one of the two big doors that lead out of this room.

Just before I can step out, an alarm rings that almost pops my ears, the doors shutting right in front of my face, screeching in agony.

No. Shit. No.

I reach for the handles but there are none. I give them a push with my shoulders, but they won't budge.

"It's locked."

Yeah no shit honey!!

I turn around to see the voice belongs to one of the most handsome men I've ever seen in my twenty-four years of life.

"No, that can't be! I have a job interview right now. I NEED to get out!" I reply, my heart racing. Out of nowhere, the light bulbs pop, causing everyone stuck here gasp.

Only the soft, grey natural light penetrating through the window shades is the light source, but gives my environment a depressing shade, which I definitely hate.

Dramatically, I slide down the wall, tears threatening to tear me apart.

"Hey...it's okay."

"No. It's NOT," I shoot back. "Look around us..."

"Eli."

"...Eli. People are terrified. How many of us? Fourteen? What do you do with fourteen frickin' people stuck in ONE damn room?!"

"You don't know how long this...power outage will last," he offers, he slides down beside me, the weight of his hand now on my shoulder, making my palm sweat. "We'll wait until they come for us."

My sapphire eyes meet his warm emerald ones; I unconsciously study him from top to bottom. His longish jet black hair falls nearly as he combs his hand through it. He looks slightly over six feet, wearing jeans, plaid shirt, and a khaki jacket.