Lucinda Lovelace double checked the address on the building
against the one on the slip of paper from the employment agency. The numbers matched and it was the right
street but somehow didn’t look like it she imagined it. She expected a multi-story office building in
some kind of an industrial complex, but this was an older bungalow style home
in the middle of the city. The crabgrass
was interspersed with poorly tended rose bushes. Next to the front door was a small fountain
which was dry.
It was now or never. She needed the job and it was the only
one that had an immediate opening that paid more than minimum wage.
She tested the door knob; it was locked. An old fashioned
doorbell was attached to the doorframe.
She rang the doorbell and waited.
And waited. And waited. Lucinda walked away from the door and peeked
into what would traditionally be a living room window. Three teenagers lounged on the floor next to
a scattered pizza box. They were absorbed
in some kind of a video game.
This most definitely wasn’t a place of business. It couldn’t be.
Just as she reached into her purse for her cell phone, the
front door creaked open. “We don’t want any,” a schlubby looking man with three days
worth of most unsexy stubble, cherry cola red hair, and a neon green t-shirt
said.
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