Taking a deep breath, Casey tried to calm down.
“My interview? Here? What the hell do you mean? Who are you?” He smiled again and shook his head.
“Really, Miss Travers, that is no way to impress them.” Torn between crying and punching him, Casey’s head was spinning. The guy just stood, looking at her as though expecting something.
“Hang on a minute. I do know you. Don’t I? In the car, the guy with me in the car when it crashed – if it crashed. You were there.” He nodded, the smile gone.“Am I in trouble? Help me. Please.”
“You’re not in trouble, not with me,” he said gently, “but I think this is the interview, I think you figured it out.” He put his hand on her arm to comfort her but Casey flinched. “I’ve been here for a while,” he said, “I’ve seen people come and go and they all said the same thing. They were late to their interview. So was I, before I ended up here.” She noticed that his suit was worn and she wondered how many nights he’d slept in it. “I thought it was the same,” he continued, “I thought I’d fail.”
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