I paced around my room feeling anxious about my upcoming interview, throwing random clothes into a hamper that were more than dirty. How many wears was considered too many? It had been a few days since my last interview and I knew there was a lot riding on today. A twenty two year old moving back in with her dad would be more embarrassment than I could handle.

There was a sharp knock at the door. I checked the time - 7:30. Like clockwork.

"Morning, Mr. Greggs," I called before opening the door. I unlatched the door and tugged it open revealing the weathered old man. He wore a button down navy shirt that was far too big for him and a pair of black slacks that ran too long. What was it with his generation getting dressed for the day so early? I glanced down at my bunny fuzzy slippers and pink robe wondering what he must think about me every morning.

"Good morning," the stench of cigarette smoke wafting over to me as he spoke. He handed me a brown parchment bag, "Here."

I grabbed the small bag from him peering in to see a cinnamon roll. "Mr. Greggs, did you buy this for me?" I asked playfully.

He snorted, "Just wanted to wish you good luck at your interview."

"Mr. Greggs, you big old softy," I pulled the cinnamon roll out of the bag and bit into the sweet and fluffy dough. "I knew you wanted me to stay in the building," I grinned at Mr. Greggs.

"Don't let it get to your head. I can't risk another Ms. Smith moving in. I'm pretty sure I'd murder someone."

I chuckled. He was probably right. The two of them did not get along, which always surprised me. They were both nosier than a town gossip in a Jane Austen novel, but I had always found Mr. Greggs a bit more manageable. Ms. Smith had never bought me a cinnamon roll before.

He raised an eyebrow at me, looking at my outfit, "You're not wearing that, right?" The disdain for my clothing choices dripping from his voice.

I rolled my eyes at him, "Contrary to what you think, I have dressed for an interview before."

He gave my bunny slippers a look of contempt, "Maybe that's why you're still unemployed."

"Well, I gotta say, you know how to get a girl's confidence up before an interview."

He shook his head shooting me an apologetic smile, "Sorry. You'll be great. And if they have any doubts, you can give them my number as a reference."

"Thanks, Mr. Greggs." I wasn't sure that the rantings of my senile neighbour who collected newspaper clippings would score me the job, but I appreciated the thought.

He hobbled his way up the stairs and I closed the door behind me. My phone rang as soon as I took in a large mouthful of the sweet pastry.

"Hello?" I mumbled indelicately, mouth full.

"Graceful as ever, Emily." My dad's voice sounded on the opposite end.

I swallowed loudly and cleared my throat, "Sorry dad. How are you?" I flipped through my mail as I spoke to him, eyeing a letter from a certain ex who I was currently regretting giving my address to.

"I'm doing good, kid. I'm just calling to check up on you."

I opened the letter and spotted the words 'sorry' and 'please unblock me, I can't keep writing letters' before I crumpled the paper up and threw it into my trash, missing the bin by a few feet. "I'm doing good dad, I have an interview today."

I heard papers shuffling on his end and imagined he was likely at the station, "That's great, honey. I knew it was only a matter of time."

"Well, I haven't gotten anything yet, but fingers crossed. Are you at work?"

"Yeah, I needed to get an early start on things. There's a couple new rookies coming in that I'm going to have to train. Have to keep up appearances of timeliness." He explained. My dad's job as a local sheriff had always kept him busy and extremely overprotective of me, especially since my mom passed away. It was hard for him to let me move away. I think he coped with it by immersing himself into his work.

"That's great, dad. Are you also going home at a timely manner?" I asked, concerned about his home life. There had always been an imbalance, more so now that I wasn't around as much.

"I do fine, kiddo. You still got your pepper spray?" He asked.

"Yes, dad," I rolled my eyes. Some things never change.

"Don't take a tone. When you choose to live in that area, I think worrying is justified."

"I take it with me everywhere I go." A little white lie never hurt anyone. Though, I really should be taking that thing with me.

"Good," he replied. "Well I gotta get going. Talk to you tomorrow?"

"Love you, dad."

"You too, kiddo."

I smoothed down my blazer and black slacks. I wanted to appear professional, but maybe this was a bit much. I took the blazer off and kept it at the tucked in blouse. At least that didn't look like I was trying too hard. I brushed my hair, curling it slightly at the ends so that the strands were smooth and presentable. I stepped back for a moment looking myself over. This was the best it was going to get.

I grabbed my purse, remembering the pepper spray this time and making my way out of my apartment.

I grabbed the bus before travelling to the address that I had been given, a few stops away. I walked into a condo complex that put my out of date apartment look like a homeless shelter, noticing the wheelchair accessible entrances. I'm sure those came in handy. It wasn't everywhere that you could find them, sadly. I walked into the elevator, pushing level D, checking my phone quickly to see 3:55 flashing back at me. The elevator opened and I walked over to the 4th apartment.

I took in a deep breath, smoothing out my hair one more time before knocking on the door with confidence. I would nail this interview. I would get this job. I would pay my rent this month.

The door opened slowly and I peered in to see what looked like a young teenager seated in a wheelchair. He has short brown hair and soft features that showed kindness in his face.

"Hi," I began brightly, "I'm Emily, I'm here for a job interview?"

He gave me a puzzled look, "Job interview? I don't know anything about that," he trailed.

I looked in front of me at the door seeing the number 4, "I was told to come to 4D for a caregiver position?"

He snorted, "Caregiver? I think you have the wrong house. But, if it were the right house, I'd tell you that the person looking for a caregiver is sorely mistaken and said person absolutely does not need a caregiver like he was a child."

Someone dropped something inside the house causing a breaking noise that made me jump. I heard a quiet, "Shit!" Followed by a louder, "Is that the nurse, Daniel?"

"No!" Daniel called back shooting me an apologetic look while I gaped at him. This kid was about to make me homeless. Maybe I overestimated the kindness of his features.

"Yes!" I called out shooting Daniel a look of determination. I wasn't going to let a teenager outsmart me out of a job.

"I think it's some kind of Jehovah's Witness or something," he called back.

"Uh, definitely not a Jehovah's Witness!" I shouted out.

"Just come in," the gruff voice replied and Daniel sighed before scooting back and giving me room to enter.

I walked in but not before shooting Daniel a look of victory. I took in the space around me feeling like I was walking into a showroom. The entire apartment was decorated, and I use the term very lightly - with greys or blacks. Grey couches, black coffee table, grey chairs, black countertops. It felt like a bachelor pad.

As I looked away from the countertops in the kitchen, I noticed a man standing up from cleaning something on the floor. He wiped his hands on a towel and I took him in. He had short brown hair and piercing blue eyes, so vivid that I could see the colour from way back in the hallway. He was wearing a snug black t-shirt and fitted grey sweatpants, and had tattoos up and down his arms and peaking through around the v-neck of his shirt, but it was the sheer size of the giant that threw me off. He was massive, not only in height but in stature. Saying he worked out would be an understatement. He was built like a warrior.

I shook my head slightly to stop myself from ogling his bulging muscles. Focus, Emily. You need an apartment. And food.

"Hi, I'm Emily. I'm an RN," I reached my hand out for his and he continued to wipe his hands on a towel, ignoring my hand completely. I slowly retracted the gesture.

"You're a nurse?" He asked in such a masculine, deep voice that I thought I could listen to it all day. How I would have loved his voice reading an audio book. Any book. I didn't even care what it was.

"Yes," I confirmed.

"How old are you?" He raised an eyebrow. A perfectly shaped eyebrow.

"Twenty two. I graduated last year," I started and I noticed the look of disappointment cover his face. His perfectly sculpted face. "But, I'm a hard worker and I have really good references and I do my job very well."

He sighed gesturing to the couch. I walked over and took a seat, reaching into my bag for my neatly folded up resume. I handed it to him but he didn't make a move to take it. I was going to place it on the table before Daniel snatched it out of my hands and opened it.

"It says here that you worked at a hospital for eight months," Daniel began and I nodded. "Could that be because you were too unstable to work any longer than that?" He asked aggressively.

I leaned back giving me a confused expression. This kid really was aiming at making me lose the position. The punk. "No," I trailed, "it was because of personal reasons."

"Of the mentally unstable variety?" Daniel pushed leaning forward in his chair.

I looked at the other guy and he was still looking at me pensively, not doing anything to get Daniel in tow.

"Of the moral conscience variety," I let him know.

Daniel paused for a moment, "still sounds unstable." He muttered.

"Do you have experience with spinal cord injuries?" Adonis himself asked.

"I took a course during college on that topic specifically and I worked with a number of patients with similar injuries when I worked at the hospital. How long have you have the injuries for, Daniel?" I asked him.

He looked away from me mumbling, "like a year."

I nodded, "You know there's a ton of people with similar injuries who began to get feeling back within a couple years. It can be a journey sometimes, but don't give up hope."

I saw a glimmer of happiness appear in Daniel's eyes before the other man interrupted, "We don't think that's Daniel's case."

I frowned at him. It wasn't the best bed side manner to shoot down all possibility of hope in a patient. It's more effective to give them something to hope for, especially when it's as common as it is to get improvement.

The guy cleared his throat before stating, "We're probably going with someone else, someone with more experience."

I looked at Daniel to see a level of disappointment that I was surprised to see. I thought he'd be ecstatic to see me gone. I stood up before looking back at the man, "I understand, but if you do decide to give me a chance, just know that I will pour my heart into this position. I won't take a sick day. I won't be late. I take my job very seriously and you'll realize that if you hire me."

The guy said nothing so I just nodded at him before walking to the door, "Bye, Daniel," I waved as I was leaving, shutting the door behind me.

There goes my apartment.