The Second Interview

I am sitting up as straight as I can, wearing slacks and a shirt and tie, which is chafing and uncomfortable. The couch has plastic over it, form-fitted plastic that reflects the sunlight back into my eyes. Yolanda is effortlessly casual, as always. Her mother smiles and offers tea and cookies that I don’t think I could eat. Her father is looking at me exactly as I would expect an ex-marine who had a week ago caught me getting a handy from his princess in his basement rumpus room. Nothing has occurred to me to say that would sound convincing.

***
Title by: JoJo
Story by: David

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Undo

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