I was getting ready for an interview for my dream job—or, well, because I had been fired from seven other jobs. Yeah, seven. But let's not talk about that. Today was supposed to be my fresh start, the day I turned my life around.

I stepped into the elevator, my heart pounding as my mind raced with all sorts of thoughts. Will I get this job? What if my boss doesn't like me? What if I mess up the interview? Ugh, stop it, Amelia. I shook my head and pressed the button for my floor.

The elevator hummed as it moved, and for a second, I tried to calm myself. Deep breaths. You got this. I adjusted my blazer, straightened my blouse, and checked my reflection in the shiny elevator doors. I had spent way too much time perfecting my outfit for this moment—crisp white blouse, navy blue blazer, pencil skirt, and the most professional heels I could find without completely destroying my feet. I had to look the part. I had to prove to myself that I was capable, that I wasn't just some walking disaster with a history of bad luck.

But when the doors opened, I realized—wrong floor. Great. Just great. I quickly pressed another button, feeling a little stupid. How had I even messed that up? My nerves were really getting the best of me. I let out a frustrated sigh and tried to brush it off. It was just a small mistake. Nothing to stress about, I told myself.

As the doors were about to close, I heard quick footsteps approaching. Before I could react, a man suddenly ran into the elevator—right into me—and the next thing I knew, his coffee went flying. Time slowed down as I watched the dark liquid splatter all over my pristine white blouse, soaking through the fabric and spreading like a bad ink stain.

"Oops," he said with a smirk.

I blinked. Oops? I looked down at myself, horrified. The coffee was warm, but thankfully not scalding. Still, it didn't change the fact that I now looked like a complete mess—a complete mess on the way to an important interview.

I stared at him, waiting for him to say something more. An apology, maybe? A simple "Oh no, I'm so sorry"? But nope. Nothing. He just looked at me like it was no big deal. Like this happened all the time. Like I was the one inconveniencing him.

"What?" he asked, completely unfazed.

I blinked again, trying to process his reaction. "Um, excuse me? You spilled your coffee all over me!" My voice came out sharper than I expected, but seriously? Who just does that and moves on like it's nothing?

He shrugged.... Shrugged! "Well, not my problem, now is it?"

I gaped at him. Was he serious right now? "Yes, it is! Can't you at least apologize?"

He just crossed his arms and glared at me, as if I was the one being unreasonable. "No, it isn't. It's a you problem, not a me problem."

I clenched my jaw, my frustration boiling over, but before I could say anything else, the elevator doors opened again. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay somewhat composed. Losing my temper in the middle of an office building probably wasn't the best idea, especially when I was about to have an interview.

As soon as we reached the right floor, I stormed off, heading straight for the restroom.

I had an interview to ace, but first, I needed to clean up this mess—both the coffee stain and my rapidly souring mood.