“Sometimes it sucks to be at the bottom of the barrel.” He said to Num, who sat licking her paws on his bed. “See you when I get home later, behave while I’m gone, Princess Num, and I’ll give you two treats instead of one… Just don’t tell Min,” he added after a moment. He waved to the cat, who gave him a look and then resumed licking as he headed out the door, locking it behind him.

Over an hour later, Heart stumbled through the front doors of TLR Industries, gasping for breath.

He’d cursed himself earlier, asking the universe for a break, because nothing had gone right since. He wasn’t just late from changing shirts. He’d missed the only bus that stopped in front of TLR, sprinted six blocks for the next one, barely caught it, then sat helpless as it crawled into traffic, blew a tire, and dumped everyone on the curb.

He’d hired a bike in desperation, only to realize he had no cash. That meant a detour to the bank, handing over bills to an annoyed driver who of course couldn’t park near TLR without a badge, so in the blistering heat he’d run the last stretch from the parking structure all the way to the glass doors. Should’ve just grabbed a bike in the first place. Now I’m down to my last few baht. I should be in a marathon if I’m gonna run this much.

He had stopped only to show his visitors’ pass to the guard so that they would buzz him through the gates that allowed workers inside the fancy building.

The guard had given him an amused smile before letting him up, and he had thanked him as he ran. All four elevators were in use and when he pressed the button and none of them moved, he sighed. He glanced at his watch and made a split decision.

He went to the emergency exit. Stared up at the fourty-six floors. I hate my life.

As he barged through the door, slightly out of breath, onto the forty-sixth floor, the other people waiting for interviews coughed and looked away politely. Some of them hid sneers and others hid small smiles. He headed towards one of the few empty spots in the room and sat down. Throwing on the Suit Jacket quickly to hide the tight sweat soaked shirt. Doing his best to smooth and adjust himself back to normalcy.

He sat there calmly, hands folded on his lap, but in his head; he was panicking.

Panicking at a hundred times his normal level of panic.

Yet, he was fully aware of how bad he must look, all sweaty, and with his hair disheveled from the run. But most important of all, he was late.

And that was the worst look of all.

A horrible first impression for a first interview, and yet, what could he do. Nothing had gone right. He had lost his spot in line, and would be at the end of the interviews now.

He had wanted to walk in calmly, confidently.

Instead, he was tired, sweaty, overwhelmed, and the one thing he had been pleading not to happen the whole time had happened.

His suit had ridden up in places he had known they would and shouldn’t have.

Heart felt this overwhelming desire to adjust it so he wasn’t so embarrassingly uncomfortable below and across his chest. Doing it here would be the worst idea under the sun.

No way in hell did he want to attract any more attention.

Heart cleared his throat softly, more like a heavy swallow to alleviate a lump of anxiety in his throat and chest. He rubbed his lightly sweaty palms on his lap as a man called people in batches of three or four.

The interviewers seemed like they must be taking their time as no one went in and out of the doors the entire time he sat there self-consciously.

Damn, I need to fix everything, to at least be presentable… But what if they call my number when I am in the toilet?’

“Do you think they will call us soon?” He leaned over and whispered to the girl next to him. She wore the number one hundred and forty-eight. Her number was four before his own number he had gotten when he had run in late.

He gave her the absolutely most charming smile he could muster, though he wasn’t sure how effective it would be when he was a disheveled mess, and despite how little he wanted to lean closer to her massive cloud of expensive perfume, she reeked off.

But when she turned to him, the smile in her eyes was kind and nervous, a reflection of his own, not rude at all. He dropped the fake smile, and it was instantly replaced by a genuine one as a wave of ease soothed across him.

She nodded knowingly. “I think you have a bit of time. I would go fast, though, fix your hair, it’s the most obvious.” She pointed to the far hall outside the glass doors. “Down there, third door on your left.”

He grinned, then bowed his head a little. “Thanks,”

She let out a little bemused giggle, and he stood up and walked as gracefully as he could toward the area she had gestured to. Even though this was the first time this morning, he actually wanted to run.