Miguel swallowed. “Can I still speak to someone? Just for two minutes?”
“I’m sorry. The hiring manager’s calendar is full.”
“I came across the city in that storm.”
“I understand.”
But she clearly didn’t.
He exhaled through his nose. “Can I reschedule?”
“You can apply again in six months.”
Six months.
To someone behind a desk, it was a scheduling policy.
To Miguel, it sounded like a door slamming shut on groceries, rent, and every promise he’d made to his little girl.
Still, he forced a tight smile.
“Thank you.”
When he stepped back outside, the storm had weakened into a thin gray drizzle.
But he felt colder than before.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and started down the sidewalk, shoulders heavy, head low, each step louder in his mind than on the pavement.
Then a black SUV rolled up beside him.
