I somehow still manage to be shocked by the chill everytime I step into The Foundation’s office building, no matter how many layers of stockings I put on.

I should seriously buy tights, and maybe wrap a scarf around my mouth and nose too,  just leaving my eyes uncovered like I’m planning to rob a bank.

But hindsight is probably the most useless sense. The ten thousand things I know I should have done are beside the point. It feels like I’m being bitten on the face by Old Man winter, and my legs are chewed to soreness by a thousand frosty gremlins.

Ohhh, why did I have to come here at all?

Just focus. Just focus. 

Kat has been telling me for the last week not to panic. Melly has been telling me not to worry. It’s nothing to be nervous about.

And she would know, right?

Mrs King just wants to discuss something. There could be a thousand good things to discuss. 

But my nerves still send me a few extra chills, just for good measure, as I try to wrap my coat a little bit tighter around my freezing frame like that will help me survive this man-made Antarctica.

Veggera must be part polar bear or something. Why else would he set up the office this way?

This is unbearable…

And at this point I can’t even decide which of a thousand kinds of awful is the primary reason why I’m trembling.

I didn’t get enough sleep last night. I shouldn’t have drunk coffee and just gone without anything, since I was out of tea. My alarm didn’t go off and I woke up already in a rush and on edge…

Or just because the anxiety does whatever it wants, and is probably just laughing at my attempts to attribute it to anything I could try harder to control next time.

Deep…deep breath. Stop shaking. We’re here now. We’re on time. Nothing is going wrong. Nothing has actually gone ‘wrong’ so far-today-

Nothing will go wrong.

Kat promised he won’t complain about me picking the chocolate chips out of his scones if I get through today without telling myself ‘I can’t do this’ even one time, so I have to put in at least a little bit of effort.

He’ll probably cave even if I fail if he knows I actually tried…

…But I’d rather stick to my end of the deal, if I can.

I scan the room vaguely to remember where exactly the AC unit is positioned, and select the seat furthest away from it, but to my surprise the lobby isn’t empty today. 

There’s a short, though I really have no right to call anyone short, when they’re nearly all taller than me, fair-skinned woman with curly hair and gold rimmed glasses, sitting in the same chair I sat in a few months ago, staring at the wall with the newspaper clippings and that huge purple flower.

That was the warmest seat…

I have to try my best not to be a little upset that she got to it before me, but I can’t blame her when I know what it’s like to try to brave this artificial winter.

Might as well go for the next best thing…

Under most circumstances, I’d rather do almost anything else, sit beside a bear, before I’d go out of my way to sit down next to a stranger, but I also know I’d like to get home with at least a few of my digits not frozen. So, trying my best to be casual, I quietly take the seat beside hers and give something like a smile and a greeting.

“Afternoon…,” sitting down beside someone without at least attempting conversation would make things more uncomfortable, still. “Are you waiting for an agent?”

The woman smiles at me just slightly, and her eyes seem to squint the way Kattar’s do, “No, a…Juana X. King?”

“Oh?”

I wonder if Mrs. King will be meeting with this girl before or after me.

I’d rather not wait any longer than I have to and just get this over with, but it’s not like I have a choice, I suppose.

It takes everything in me not to fiddle with my hair.

“Are you a Rainbow Ocean…I mean, an affiliated artist?” My smile is trembling slightly as I try to keep myself looking at her face, so almost without thinking, I open my purse, and start rifling through it carefully as an excuse not to make eye contact as I talk.

“I’m not even sure what that is,” she laughs a little, “This is my first time coming here. I was told something about an art festival…”

I’ve found my compact mirror now, and I flip it open to try to check my makeup, but the reflection won't stop shaking, as I brush my hair back over my shoulder quickly so it will stop drowning my face.

For heaven’s sake…

I’m too tired today, and that exhaustion starts to feel like tears, as I resist the urge to rest my forehead on my knuckles because she’s still talking and I don’t want to be rude.

“Actually, I might be meeting with Mrs. Xochitl. I got a few emails from both of them but I’m not sure which of them runs the interviews.”

“Mrs King,” I mumble numbly. “Mel…Mrs. Xochitl is in charge of communications.”

I stare miserably at a less than subtle smudge at the edge of my lipstick and try to figure out whether it would be worthwhile to try to fix it-

There’s no way my hand is steady enough to try to fix it.

Or if I should just wipe it all off, altogether.

I’m a mess.

And maybe that sounds too much like saying “I can’t do this,” but I barely have the energy to care.

I’m supposed to be trying…

This isn’t trying. This doesn’t count as trying…probably…but…

Bracing myself with a sigh that I hope isn’t audible - hope the woman won’t think has anything at all to do with her…

I’m the trainwreck…

I don’t want to let that bother anyone else. But being stable is the hardest thing to fake.

I reach in my bag for my package of makeup wipes but end up nearly dropping the whole bag altogether.

The woman’s eyebrows jump just slightly and I redden violently, trying to smile through the breathless discomfort.

“Perdón…I’ve got butter fingers today for some reason.” 

I pick the package of makeup wipes back up and glance back into the mirror, but this time the sigh is audible.

I don’t even want to try to move.

“Do you need any help?” the woman asks, and I look up again to see her staring down at me with a concerned frown sitting markedly on her face.

For one second I think of answering ‘no’ but that wouldn’t be exactly true. 

It’s basically never true.

“I’m just…” I wave my hand a little lazily, trying to seem casual, “awful at doing my makeup, so I’m just going to remove the lipstick.”

“Well, if you wanted to wear it, I might be able to fix it for you.”

“What?” I laugh a little uncomfortably, “I mean…it’s basically all wrong….”

“It’s not that bad,” she smiles reassuringly, “Did you bring the color you used with you?”

I hesitate for a moment, feeling my doubts ebb with my nervousness, but her smile doesn’t waver, so I try to smile back.

“It’s here,” I shrug meekly, offering her the little tube of ‘chocolate burgundy’ liquid lipstick like I’m paying tribute to a higher power.

“Perfect,” she smiles with an almost mom-ish tone, as she takes the makeup wipe to the edge of my mouth, “We’ll just clean up this edge first.”

Then with the ‘chocolate burgundy’ she redoes the lip with a more dextrous hand than I've ever managed…or had.

“Press your lips together like this,” she demonstrates, screwing the cap back onto the lipstick and placing it in my right hand.

I obey the instructions to the best of my ability, notwithstanding the deep freeze that seems set on shutting down all my systems completely on days like these.

And when I glance back at my newly painted reflection in the compact mirror, I realize that I actually look nice.

I manage to smile back at the glass, and this smile is just a little more steady.

***

Today’s chapter features Butter Bee! A big thanks to her for her amazing drawing, the winning picture of Kattar from the “Damsel in the Red Dress” DTIYS. I am so grateful to everyone who made drawings of Kattar and Alicia for this challenge. I loved seeing the pictures and the different interpretations of my two leads. The rest of the artworks will be featured tomorrow in the chapter featuring PJthetoonaddict, the winning artist for a picture of Alicia, but for now, here is the picture of Kattar!