Doug looks up at the blurry sky; the landscape is grey. Melancholy. He continues walking through high leaves; they crunch under his feet. The breath of fresh rot fills his nostrils. The taste of winter in his mouth. He pulls his coat closer against the chill.

Today was not his day. Nobody gets a job on a day like this. The coming of winter made people hard, but he needed the job and his interview was today. Just his luck.

In the building, to the desk, the lobby couch. Minutes passed as he waited, each longer than the last. Are they coming or have they forgotten about me? A few more minutes. People passed in and out the doors to the inner building but none for him. He swipes at his phone to pass the time.

“Doug Mann?” A voice above him. He straightened, shoving the phone back in his pocket and composing himself.

“That’s me!” He expressed a dose too loud. He stood up to shake hands with the gazelle of a woman before him.