Burn With The Stars

"Those in favor of her staying, raise your hand."

The conference room was silent.

Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. I sat still, cold metal under my palms, as eyes glanced around-but barely met mine.

One by one, hands lifted.

Some slow. Some hesitant.

Some... didn't move at all.

Outside, rain slammed against the windows, loud and relentless.

Inside, the silence said everything.

I was being voted on. Like a threat. Or a mistake.

Three months earlier.

I was in my apartment-more like a box with a toilet and microwave-sitting in front of a secondhand laptop.

Another email pinged.

Subject line: Thank you for applying.

I didn't even need to open it.

Still, I clicked.

"We appreciate your interest. Unfortunately, we don't have a role for you at this time."

Number fourteen.

Fourteen rejections in one week. I wasn't even surprised anymore. Just tired.

I was about to shut my laptop when a message popped up on my phone.

Keira:

"Still job-hunting? My office needs someone. It's chaos. You in?"

Keira.

Senior from college. Cool girl. Office heels. Expensive eyeliner. We weren't friends, but she always seemed... untouchable.

Desperation doesn't care about pride.

I texted back:

Me: "Yes. I'm in. Thank you."