LOVE IN THE SHADOWS..

I had just finished a job interview that didn't make me feel particularly confident as I was leaving the workplace. In this state, nobody is hiring unless I want a job at the minimum wage, which I couldn't accept. Not if I wanted to cover my rent and school expenses.

In exchange for their agreement that I might travel halfway across Texas with my partner, I told my parents I would find a job supporting me. I was supposed to complete that before submitting my applications to colleges.

My living arrangement was unusual since my boyfriend lived in an off-campus apartment and said it was against the law for me to move in with him. He had a friend who lived in a "share house" where several people rented apartments to one another's friends. At present, I am sharing a three-bedroom apartment with three other people. They were both dating and had a roommate.

Since I had nowhere else to go, I accepted the offer of the house's smallest room, which left a lot to be desired. I had assumed that my boyfriend would move in with me. Still, he said it was only because he had already used tuition to cover his living expenses and could not recoup it. I got it, so I now share an apartment across town with three strangers.

Because Denton's cars don't appear to stop lol, I had to swerve about elbows and jog across pedestrian walkways when I walked down the downtown sidewalk. I discovered the hard way that cyclists don't either. The other day, I went to another fruitless interview, and one damn near killed me.

I spotted a homeless man trying to talk to everyone who passed him while dodging a wide-bodied person on the sidewalk. He had hunched shoulders. They passed the man without so much as a glance in his direction. Like he wasn't even there.

I could only hear his cries as I moved closer a few steps. "Please give me a little money to get a meal." I scowled as I moved closer to the man.

Today's interview attire consisted of a blue shirt tucked into a pair of black -colored high-rise stylish trousers I borrowed from my roommate and a couple of electric black shoes.

I hold very few goods because I never carry a purse. I have a little cash in my pocket, and my phone is in a transparent case with my license, flat spare key, and DCTA transport card. Even my debit card is nonexistent.

I dug in my pocket and took out a ten and some cash. Sorry, I don't have a lot. I offered the man some crumpled bills, saying, "I need half of it to refill my bus pass, but please have the rest." He appeared astonished that I had spotted him before to him.

We were in Denton when I realized he was looking to find where he could spend the few dollars I offered. I glanced at his worn-out clothes and the coating of grime covering his flesh, and remorse overcame me.

I called for his attention, "You know what." We were standing in the middle of the sidewalk, angered people, but that's unfortunate. That is what they get for disobeying a man's requests.

I'll walk home. Take this, please. Find something to eat," I said no hi as I gave him the last of my food. The man seemed genuinely appreciative. In that brief moment, something heartfelt passed through his eyes.

Before a man in the alley next to us abruptly cut him off, he was just about to start speaking.

Give the girl her money back, The other man said, throwing his cigarette on the ground, "This is my brother's restaurant; we'll find you something to eat. At the sight of him, I swallowed.

He had dark hair, dark lashes lining his shaded blue eyes, and his magnificent form was dressed in a fitting suit. Although the muscles are hidden, the build is visible. His lips appeared pink and sweet, yet the sound from his mouth was stern and commanding.

The homeless man gave me back the money. He said, "Thank you, sir," before putting his two hands together in appreciation. The business-casual man curtly nodded. His face was expressionless. He continued to lean into the side alley of the building we were in front of with relaxed body language. I now know it was a restaurant building.

Although it seems odd for a restaurant. The draperies were drawn during lunch rush hours, and the building was an ordinary brick structure just after the downtown skyscrapers.

The name sounds strongly Italian, but I don't know it.

"You too," the suit-clad man said, drawing my attention. If not for his eyes, you may assume he is entirely uninterested. When they came to you, they burned and informed me he wasn't making an offer. He was directing me to follow.

Ah, no problem. I gestured to leave while saying, "Thank you for helping this man. He pushed off the wall and moved into my path in one step. His voice was heavy, and he told me to stay with him, or he wouldn't come inside.

I exclaimed, turning to face the starving man before returning to meet the suit-wearing man. He probably intended to hold me responsible if the homeless man did something. I just softly nodded because I couldn't refuse the man food.

I could tell this business was upscale when I entered the door with a closed sign hanging in the frosted glass window. It appeared to be a brick building from the exterior, with squared windows covered in heavy burgundy-colored drapes. They resemble upscale draperies. As though the location was closed, the lights were dim.

There is a hostess podium when you first enter. After that, booth seating is available along the left-hand wall behind it, up to a pair of doors unmistakably the kitchen.

More dispersed tables could be found to the right, but a bar could be located in the back right corner. With their tribute to Italy's motherland, the walls gave the place a somewhat cozy feeling. Tiles and plates with intricate hand painting.

Black leather covered the booth seats, and I could see the dark mahogany-colored wood underneath since there were no tablecloths. The strewn tables on the right had tablecloths, so those I'm not familiar with.

Like how they strategically light the back shelves to highlight their more expensive liquor items, the bar was constructed of the same dark tone wood, and the pendant lighting hanging down from above was gold.

A dark stool that matched the bar's countertop was dragged out by the man in a suit. He told me to "sit," I thought it was the homeless man, but he had only pulled out my chair. The suit-clad man exited via those doors and into the back of the business, leaving me alone with the homeless man, whose name I should inquire because it's impolite to keep referring to him as such.

I'm Samantha; what about you? I put out my hand to slap his. He paused and peered at his own hands. He did not shake my hand after saying, "They're dirty." So, I laughed, "I guess mine are too."

Based on the stringy gray hair hidden by his rolled cap, I estimate that guy is in his 70s or 80s. When we sat down, he had removed the cap out of respect. The guy laughed.

He introduced himself as "Carlos," and this time, he shook my hand. There was a slight stench, which I won't deny, but I didn't mind it.

When he arrived, two plates of pasta with a standard bolognese sauce were in front of the man in the suit. Each of us was given one by him. Since I am trying to save money, I consume much less healthy food than I should. I thanked the man and dove into this hefty dish, which looked excellent.

I grinned to praise the flavor, "Oh wow...this doesn't taste like jarred sauce." He had an expressionless face. Fine, then.

He only responded, "Because it isn't," before getting up to get a little glass from behind the bar where we were seated. I chose to concentrate on Carlos. He spoke before I could ask him a question.

"You look pretty young, but you also appear relatively affluent. Do you work in this area? He queried me. I looked at myself from below. Oh, I'm grateful. In reality, I'm seeking a job. I explained my appearance: "I just got off an interview. "OH. Those can be difficult to find, he said with a sorrowful smile.

"Carlos, what led to your predicament? I appreciate it if you'd prefer not to talk about personal matters. I was stopped short by him. I waited as he said, pausing to shove a mouthful of noodles.

I couldn't help but take notice of the suit man's fluid motions. He moved with skill. As he skimmed the various bottles, his hand stopped, and when he located the one he liked, he grabbed it, turned the cap, and poured about two fingers' worth of whiskey.

When I got a better look at him, I could see that his thick, dark hair was long enough to be ruffled at the top but tapered more at the sides so he could keep it under control.

Something told me describing this man as 'tame' was inappropriate. He hadn't done anything for me, in any case, to merit that notion. The word "tame" didn't feel quite right to me, even though he rarely talked and moved with urgency. He had the appearance of an expensive whiskey. Smooth to swallow, smokey aftertaste.

The polished attire of a reputable businessman, but with a little darker refinement. I can see now that he has gorgeous Italian skin.

"This was some time ago when I was 51...On the job, I was hurt. I didn't have insurance. In a way, I was working for a man who, in turn, was working for a man. Anyhow, it was my knee, and it was seriously damaged. I visited some lousy state-employed doctors that practice medicine, and they only threw me some medications to make me go. The problem is that they filled and renewed my prescription since I was in severe agony. Are you following, young lady?

Did they saturate you with medications without pausing to look at you once? I understood now. He moaned, "I got hooked." He finished his lunch while returning his attention to his plate. He must have been famished since he finished his food before I had even finished mine.

I saw the suit-clad man behind the bar continuing to read a book, possibly for his brother's restaurant, while turning his back on us. He gave us the silent treatment.

And how are you doing these days? Sincere curiosity caused me to lean my elbow against the mahogany bar's high counter. Even worried. "Down near Sullivan Square, there is the suboxone clinic. I'm attempting to wean myself off the drugs. What is suboxone, exactly? He cocked a grimy head in my direction.

It can alleviate drug dependence, I said with a nod.

I didn't want to look down at my food while he told me such intimate details, so I maintained eye contact and held my fork in my hand.

My children are here. I'm certainly older than you, but I have a life to live. While I am homeless and drug-addicted, they won't talk to me. They have stated that clearly. I don't blame Caroline; she's the mother," he said, shaking his head.

"Carlos, I'm just a random person eating pasta with you, but I genuinely think you have a decent heart and the ability to change for the better.

Even if it's not for the benefit of your grandchildren, it's for their help. I thought warmly of my grandfather, who I cherished.

His thin, flapping lips exhaled as he did so. An outsider? I believe I met an angel," he said with a sincere smile. You'd best pay attention to me if I'm your guardian angel. Get sober, regain your family, and often, if you're getting sober via the state, they give some programs to assist you in obtaining employment or disability if you're still ill with your knee and everything.

He gave a nod as if he already knew. "Good girl, Samantha, you are. He advised me, or perhaps said, "Don't let this world eat you alive." He attempted to grab the suit-clad man's attention by saying, "Sir...thank you for the meal." He made a tiny bend to look at Carlos, and once more, he nodded briefly. Total lack of interest.

You have no clue what a warm smile and pleasant chat can do for a person; I thank you. He wished me well and got to his feet. He was intending to go, I knew. I stood up since it seemed unusual to me to be standing as I continued to eat. I called after him, "Bye, Carlos," but I was attempting to tuck the stool in.

The suited man told me to "eat ."Although my heart beat faster every time his lovely face came my way, I scowled at him. I said, "You're bossy," but I had already retracted the stool to complete my meal. I was pretty hungry. You're also quite talkative, he retorted. His response caused my cheeks to flush pink.

"He was being ignored by passersby. Like he wasn't even a human being. We were conversing because of that. Strangely, I defended myself. I don't know why I should give a damn what this dude thinks. Still, I'll credit him for being considerate enough to offer a homeless man lunch.

He would have used your meager earnings to purchase alcohol or drugs. Guaranteed," he said in his harsh voice, yet he could make his pace sound uninterested. It gave me the impression that I was boring him to tears.

He put the cufflinks on the end of his sleeve while I watched, then turned his blue gaze back to me. I quickly glanced at my plate and grabbed another bite. I tried to defend Carlos by saying, "Well, you can't say for sure."

He said, "You aren't from the city," more than he asked a question. My head shook.

Listen to Carlos now. Don't let them devour you to death because terrible people are around. He leaned both hands on the bar and glared at me. And those who will take advantage of your kindness will crush your sweet little heart under their feet. He criticized me.

He appeared to be getting older, but not enough to merit this speech.

You showed kindness. Have we abused your trust? I requested that he muffle his point. I'm not kind, he deadpanned. This man was incredibly tall, so even though I was seated on a high stool, he continued to look down at me. Particularly considering that both of his hands were still flat on the counter in front of me.

He has hot guy hands. The kind you recognize. The rest of his corded muscles were hidden from me by his cleanly cut nails, with veins flowing up to and under his sleeve.

So why did you feed us? I was determined to succeed in the task he had set up for me. He doesn't appear to enjoy making mistakes. Instead of responding, he licked his lips and looked down at me. I felt a chill run down my spine and up my abdomen due to the gesture.

The stillness was too much for me. The air became so dense that it was smothering me. Oh my God, has it become warm here?

This man's presence was audible. The room felt deafening even though he barely talked. In a vacant restaurant, I felt cramped. You claimed that your brother lived here. Are you redecorating or what, guys? I asked why they wouldn't be open during prime business hours.

All he said was "No." I blinked at him as I looked up. He took his hands off the bar top and straightened his outfit. He snatched his pour of whiskey, gave it a swirl, and took a sip while turning away from me.

I attempted to introduce myself by saying, "Um, I'm Samantha." I would have done it sooner if he hadn't thrown me off balance in this situation. Even though he was turning away from me, I could still hear him say, "I know." Is he aware? "H-how?" I queried.

After turning around, the man set the glass down next to him. I observed him leaning his attractive butt on the counter's edge where the alcohol was displayed. His coat stretched as he turned to face me, showing off his clearly defined muscles. Oh my.

I observed a bulge in his pants when he crossed his ankles, indicating that he had a gifted groin. What am I saying? Oh, my God? I forced myself to look away from him.

I was unable to think clearly. "Because you spoke your name to the man, and he repeated it multiple times. That's why he "sounded like he was saying 'duh' but in a severe and uninteresting manner. He most likely believed I was stupid.

What's your name, um? I queried. I had to find out. Once more, he answered me slowly. But he was perceptive. Whenever he held his eyes on me between sentences, he watched me flinch. "Leo," he replied.

I spoke it out while breathing. For Leonard or something else? I don't know why I inquired; I only wanted an opportunity to speak with him. I have never seen a man more attractive than him.

All he did was stare at me. Not. I breathed and offered him my now-empty dish across the bar. He looked down at it but was still leaning against the wall. Cufflinks, a pricey watch, a fresh white shirt, and a black suit. Does he also manage this eatery? I was curious. I hastily said, "Oh, I can wash it out myself," feeling awful that I made him feed us but didn't offer to help with the cleanup.

OK, he replied. I took a second look. OK? I had assumed he would decline the offer out of simple politeness, but does he seem that polite? I climbed down from the stool after taking both bowls. Leonard finally stepped away from the bar and headed towards the back doors.

It was a typical restaurant kitchen with plenty of room for cooking and upscale-looking appliances. There were run-through dishwashers at the dishwashing station and large industrial sinks and faucets that could be pulled out and used to hose everything off.

I carried the dishes there while searching the area for soap. When it was set down next to me, I looked up at Leo, who was dead serious. Is he always that serious, or is it just a mask? I uttered "Thank you" in the most stupidly weak and dumb voice possible.

I didn't anticipate that his sleeve would brush my shoulder when he placed the soap there or that I could smell his seductive scent. I can prove it today if I ever described him as smokey-spiced whiskey. He is superior to the most pricey bottle.

I immediately began doing the dishes because my top had no sleeves. He was behind me, but I was afraid to peek to see where.

The question, "Do you work here?" Without addressing him, I questioned him. He would only ever reply "No" to my questions. "This explains why you perceive me as talkative. You are a man of few words.

I moved the bowls to the dish rack and grabbed a rag. "Are you always so at ease around strangers?" When he inquired, he caught me off guard. "Um, if that's what you mean, I'm friendly," He shook his head slightly.

He referred to my recent action: "You followed two strange men into a dimly lit restaurant that is closed to the public, yet you're at ease.

My spine tingled with fear. "S-should I have any cause for concern?" I put the dish in the dryer on hold as I tried to read the expressionless man. He turned his point around and said, "Just another point made that you need to be careful in this city."

I couldn't think of anything more to say or do, so I just nodded.

He indicated where I should place the dishes after they were dry. He made me work hard for this. I'm not bothered. His blue eyes suddenly appeared even bluer under these harsh fluorescent lights. The man could easily pass for a top model.

Do folks this beautiful hang out with us less handsome people? He is the most stunning individual I've ever seen in person. "Well, Leonard ...even if you don't think that's what that was, thank you for the meal and your kindness".

He received criticism from me for his prior silence. He extended his hand above my head to prevent the door from opening as I started to move in that direction toward the doors that would take me to the main floor.

I took a moment to swallow. What is he up to? I gently turned around and noticed that his enormous figure had overshadowed mine.

He continued to hold my hand and leaned even closer to me. From this viewpoint underneath him, it was clear that he had a cut jaw. He astonished me by saying, "You mentioned you're looking for work." He had been listening to my and Carlos's chat, but I had no idea. He kept it quiet. I didn't say a word; I nodded, knowing my voice would betray me. He was impacted by the fact that he was too close.

Although the hand was above my head and there was just one of them, I was nevertheless affected because I was currently confined. He had been accompanied by the other. He gradually removed his hand from above me, although I almost wished he hadn't. My nose was once more flooded with the hints of smoke from earlier, as well as his spiced perfume. What sort of work is it? He inquired. Oh my, what a voice. So smooth yet deep. But stern.

AH. I curled my fingers and said, "Um, I was applying for office jobs...like front desk work, cuz that's what I did back home." Why, at the age of 20, do I feel so young next to this man? "And so that is?" I couldn't understand the question he asked, though. He clarified, "Home," when I turned my head. What's there?"

His broad shoulders in front of me were only squared off by the ease with which his hands slid into the pockets of his jeans. Every glance he gives me seems sensuous when I see such dark lashes. Possibly a harmful one. Or-I'm not sure what that is. I said, "I'm from Texas originally, but now I'm back in Florida, where my parents are." He did not respond. This guy is weird. He said, "We need someone to maintain the finances at one of our other businesses. "Other?"

Does his sibling own multiple properties? He looked down at me and said, "It's not a restaurant," watching for my reaction. The question "What is it?" Again, I cocked my head, but I was curious this time.

He pulled one hand from his slacks pocket and wiped his face with it. His thumb slid across his lower lip, making a sound to scratching due to the light stubble on his face.

My gaze followed each action. He finally admitted, "A gentlemen's club."

My eyes widened. "A what?! I stumbled over my words and said, "Oh...um, I don't think we're discussing the same kind of work. He shook his head and replied, "I told the books, back room; I wouldn't want you on the floor. I remained stunned. In situations like those, I feel timid and ashamed. Even in a back room, I would short-circuit. Although that is a beautiful offer, I wouldn't be a good fit. I gave a headshake. My hair is thick. My back is at least halfway covered by my curly hair. My parents, who are Portuguese, are the reason for my thick head of hair.

Leonard's expression of displeasure made my muscles tense. Are you saying that my place of business is beneath you? He backed into me with his language. My head jerked again, sending my hair forward as my eyes widened. "Oh, my God, I wasn't making fun of you. It must be a beautiful, um, facility.

I waved over my now awkward situation, "I'm...well, obviously uncomfortable. Although nothing was out of place, I watched Leonard adjust his coat. It won't be simple to find work here, but it will suit you.

He looked around us and said, "You need a job; you come back here."

I merely nodded in agreement because I was at a loss for words. I appreciate you giving me this long-term contract, but I CANNOT work at a gentlemen's club. If they found out where I worked, they would give me a backhander immediately. To finally reach the front door of the building, I rapidly spun around on my heel and proceeded through the kitchen doors.

I turned around to say goodbye, but I didn't anticipate him standing so near; as a result, my face collided with this man's solid chest. That's some lean muscle, wow. Its appearance was beyond my ability to even imagine.

Samantha, you've got a guy. a good-looking boyfriend. I had to recollect that. I stepped back and tilted my head up to look at him. Stylish clothing, brilliant blue eyes, and grace. Goodness me. I glanced at him and said, "Thanks again, Leonard ."

As I waited for his response, his jaw clenched and then unclenched. I wasn't receiving one.

The intensity of this man was something I had never encountered before, so I lingered for a while longer despite the strangeness of the interaction. All I wanted to do was prolong the present. No one has ever made me feel this tense.

My heartbeat and my thighs tensed. Or my heart pounded, and my thighs pumped. He didn't precisely bid me farewell, so I had to leave after saying my thanks.

When the air touched me, I realized how desperately I needed to breathe fresh air. Perhaps using "fresh air" in a city context is inappropriate, but I meant "Leonard -free" air.

-

My two housemates are all respectable individuals. Although we all rent out these rooms and lead completely separate lives, I've attempted to at least somewhat connect with them, even though I'm not exactly close to them.

Rose was a blonde with ocean eyes, and I would characterize her as having a grunge attitude. The man of the house is Amir. He is seeing Annabel. He is a gentleman from India. His beautiful skin and dark features do an excellent job of displaying his origin. Although Annabel is likewise blonde, she is of Irish descent. Her eyelashes are so thin that they practically disappear. Also, her brows. She constantly fills them in.

I only personally know Rose for one thing: she has bipolar disorder. Before asking me to accept her offer to live there, she had revealed it as if she were required to. That made me sad, but I reassured her that it didn't bother me. She probably merely wanted to explain a significant aspect of her life, such as the medications on the counter or the occasional little retreat into her room.

Possibly how she is feeling. Things like that. To better understand her and what she could need from me in the future, I took the opportunity to do some research on mental diseases on Google.

The condition of our flat is exactly what you would expect from a room-by-room leasing arrangement.

When you open the front door, you are immediately faced with the living room. The sofa is lumpy and already in place, though no one knows whose it is or where it came from.

A small flat TV and a side table with a picture and an unidentified statue are also there. I know that it is referred to as Puja and has something to do with Amar's practice of Hinduism. He presents sacrifices to this altar. Since his bedroom was already too full, he requested if he could keep it in the common area.

We all thought it was fine and had some lovely objects on it. I frequently see flowers or fruit there. For Amar, I even personally replaced a few of the withered flowers out of respect. I don't practice any religion myself. I'm not too fond of the living room because of its roughness. Although I would much rather have hardwood floors, I'm not Miss Texas here.

My only goal is to have a roof over my head. The carpeting has a strange gray color, or it may be a dirty beige color. Our kitchen, which has linoleum flooring and is inexplicably sticky more frequently than it should be, is directly behind that. There is a perpetrator. Just who? I haven't worked it out yet. An inconvenient half-hall with three doors is on the kitchen's left back side.

The bathroom, my bedroom, and Rose's bedroom. The third bedroom door is located on the right side of the floor crack between the rug and the linoleum flooring. It is located where the Puja table's corner is.

So, that's my crappy abode, and the clock is ticking on me to get a job. I sincerely hope Brian, my partner, recognizes my effort because I've felt relatively isolated in this battle. I don't want him to struggle, though. Simply put, I'm sacrificing a lot for him while he lives much more comfortably than I am. Or perhaps even thinking that it is self-centered.

I was on a Facetime call with my family because it was a Sunday. We set aside Sunday as a day to stay in touch because they are busy throughout the week and exhausted by the time they get home in the evenings. They attend church on Sunday mornings because they are Catholic, which is OK. After all, we have an afternoon call because I don't get up early on Sundays. To be exact, noon.

My dad, not my mother, is the one who gave me curly hair. Nevertheless, he keeps his hair short enough so that only a few waves are left. The exact shade of brown hair is thick and curly on my mother. They appear youthful for someone in their late forties, but that is only the result of our Portuguese skin naturally aging. Thanks be to God.

I don't relish becoming older. I feel as though I haven't even begun to live. Actually, no. My parents were immigrants who made a meager wage as custodians my entire life.

My brother is a selfish person, though. When he was 16 years old, he had an affair with a girl, which caused my catholic mother to sob for days. He and the girl broke up, but he still sees my niece, Lily, so they continue to live with my parents. They help out because he's only 19 and has a daughter who is three years old.

I adore my niece dearly. I feel like my brother could do more to help since he was the one who got a girl pregnant so early and considerably increased our living expenses. Given that we have her for half the week and she for the other, the mother is a piece of work, and child support is higher than I think is fair.

Lily was currently waving at me on the phone's screen. Those big cheeks are adorable. I waved back, saying, "I miss you, baby, so much." When I say I miss her or love her, I say "so much" because she says "much".

She glanced away from the TV at something, leaped off my mother's lap, and vanished from view. My father referred to it as "the cartoons."

"So, did Andrea return home safely? The journey in general?" I was inquiring about my aunt (Andrea), who had come to visit family from Portugal by plane. She constantly has a complaint, I notice. "Merda (stuff)" My dad sent his sister on her way. I laughed, but my mother only shook her head.

The question "Where is Dickson?" My mum immediately defended him as always, and my dad scoffed. "Sleeping. She lied and said, "The baby woke him up in the night.

After a brief exchange, they cut off the phone because Lily complained about hunger. We all exchanged "Saudades"s with one another. Missing you

My bedroom is relatively compact. I have a twin-sized mattress that was provided with the room and does not belong to me. A nightstand and a half-closet where I've crammed all of my possessions. I'm done now. There isn't even a fashionable bed frame. Just the mattress and box spring were covered in camouflage sheets. I have no idea how that got there.

I believe the person who slept there before me left behind sheets and other items, including a little fan that had recently been useful for the summer. The one window that faced the foot of my bed was covered with white blinds. I tell my parents everything is lovely since they treated me so poorly for migrating here that they would otherwise demand that I return home.

I desired to be independent. I've been protected since I was in charge of many things as a kid. When we didn't have a babysitter, and my grandfather was in and out of the hospital, I would do something like watch my brother and constantly clean the house to relieve the stress on my parents, who worked very hard.

Due to his strictness and mine, my father forbade me from dating boys in high school or going to the mall or the movies. When I was older, around 18, and they loosened slightly, that was the rarest of times.

Since my dad's catchphrase is "You live under my roof, you live under my rules," not living under his roof at the time allowed me to try new things that I had been too terrified to do even a few months earlier.

I was overjoyed when Brian asked me to visit Denton. After dating for a year, he changed colleges. He had me move out here with little else in mind because neither he nor I wanted our relationship to end. It's unsettling, yet life goes on.

Voices in the kitchen could be heard when I exited my bedroom through a propped open door. There was only one. On the phone, Rose. The bedroom door for Amar and Annabel was shut. That can imply that they are inside or not at home. All of us tend to keep our doors closed.

Everybody had a cabinet with their kitchenware, and there were allocated places in the fridge for stuff we bought for ourselves. There is a common area where we occasionally leave things for grabs.

Since I was raised in a Portuguese-speaking environment, I can attest to the importance of food in fostering friendships and politeness. When someone approaches, you extend an offer of food. Since we shared everything, I had to learn how things were run when I arrived. I comprehend why they do it. It is done to avoid disputes or people not helping with shopping.

Rose held her phone in her left hand and was frying an egg. She waved at me briefly as her eyes slid to the side to check who had just entered the kitchen. I remained silent as she finished her call and checked the refrigerator to see what I had.

I really must go grocery shopping. I must get a job immediately. I brought some money I had saved up, but when that runs out, I will have nothing. Denton has relatively high rent, so even with a subpar setup like this, you still have to fork over a few hundred dollars.

Even the pleasantest portion of Denton wasn't where I was. I was on the route connecting Denton with a neighboring city close to the borders of Cambridge and Somerville.

I'd already had five interviews. One, despite my polite email requesting to be notified whether or not I got the position, I never heard back from you. Three more called and told me they had received my résumé, but the parts had already been filled.

I was still waiting to hear about the previous one.

I've prayed to no God roughly 80 times while keeping my fingers crossed. It's coming down to the wire now.

I would eat cereal because it was inexpensive when I discovered I had no milk. I could steal from my roommates, but our trust and honor system is just that. To have a successful living situation, we must remember that we are almost strangers.

I toasted the final piece of bread I had taken off my shelf. Since I had nothing to put on this awful bread, I'm grateful that Rose passed me over the butter she had used to line her pan. I must go shopping, but my first month of rent is almost due.

I can't believe a month has already passed since I arrived. Time whizzed by.

After hanging up the phone, Rose took her eggs and sat on our table-turned-kitchen island. Although it was modest, it served as the only storage space. She murmured, "Hey, girlie," while resting her chin in her hand. I softly said, "Hello."

Rent is, therefore, payable on January 1. What are we doing here, May?" she asked, searching the room for her phone, which wasn't on the counter. I squeaked out "26th" almost in whispers. It's been four days. Rent, groceries, and a bus pass are the options. I'll have to walk everywhere for the time being. Dammit, I need a job.

"How did your first month here go for you?" She talked inanely. She must be enjoying her day. She keeps to herself a lot. I wanted to shout about how much I was struggling, but my family was never one where we voiced such complaints when I was growing up. So I worked in secret and nodded. "Adjusting."

I was waiting to start freaking out tomorrow. I would, if necessary, apply to damned Burger King if this last job didn't call by tomorrow. I require cash. Fast. I took out my phone and once more began searching for local employment on Google. Although this has become a daily routine since moving here and looking for a job, it merits another look.

Rose wore a huge flannel blouse with nothing underneath and black leggings with ripped knees. It was large, exposing her small shoulder and a portion of her chest.

She abruptly said, "I broke up with that loser. I could rent this room because of Rose, a.k.a. Brian's friend's girlfriend. I asked, "You did?!" For whatever reason, I was taken aback. I don't understand their relationship well enough to comment.

"Yeah, I simply became bored. It may be just me, but I can't date someone for over two years before getting bored. Right now, her golden hair was pulled back into an unkempt bun. So was mine, but mine has a lot more hair.

I sighed and said, "Well if there wasn't any spark," agreeing. "Sparks only last for the first few months. Then people get lazy, don't they?" She prompted me. She has a tongue piercing, so when she speaks to me, I always find myself staring at it.

She had me looking up from her tongue. I was ashamed to admit I was 20 and had only dated one guy, Brian, because of my strict parents and everything.

"How long have you two been dating?" She made me laugh. "About a year. I shrugged, "Really, a year and a half...well, he didn't exactly 'label' us for a long, so I'm not sure where to date that day.

"Exactly, boys these days are like that. 0 championships. Nuf said. I want to engage in hot sex with multiple people. She said I'm not sorry that I ended my relationship with him, and I even nodded more firmly than she did.

Have you and your boyfriend had hot sex? Rose questioned me directly. My skin turned crimson, and I felt flames coming from my face. You're shy, I see. She laughed when she realized she had embarrassed me. "Um, yeah," I scowled, "I think." What in the world am I even supposed to compare it to?

She looked perplexed, but I quickly looked down when my phone rang. A notification by email. I shoved the last bread in my mouth and muttered, "Excuse me, I need to go take this," before running to my bedroom.

I applied for the position. The fact that they responded on a Sunday surprised me, but they are workaholics. I opened the email and just stood there looking at it.

Samantha Joao,

Unfortunately, we will have to reject your application because you are not qualified for the administrative post. We are grateful that you looked into our business.

I'm wishing you success; it is Bushman & BDMfields.

How in the world am I supposed to handle this? I was so angry that I started crying. Underqualified? I hold a general studies associate's degree. I didn't believe the business required a bachelor's degree for an administrative job. I brushed away my tears in complete panic but also in complete annoyance. I need to pay my rent, my phone bill is due, and I have no damn groceries.

I've been pushed right up against a cliff here. I'll be falling to my death in the event of one false breeze. I want to work. Anything.