She hugged her coat closer to her body and wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck. Denied again over something so stupid. She knew she wouldn’t get the call. She had been denied three positions already in the past two weeks. She needed a job and needed one soon. Her parents were running out of money to send her, and she had debts to pay from all her school loans. She quickly dashed her tears from her eyes before the winter afternoon could freeze them to her face.
Had she ever felt this down before? No, she decided, she hadn’t. The first interview she had about two weeks ago she shook off, considering it to just be a warm up for the other interviews she had scheduled later in the week. She shook her head thinking about that morning, how everything that could have gone wrong did. For starters, she woke up late that day and in her rush downstairs to get a cab, she’d spilled her tea down the front of her shirt. She was forced to change her perfect interview outfit to the next best thing with quarter length sleeves. When she was finally ready to go she ran downstairs to find that it was pouring rain. She stood outside under her umbrella for what seemed like years, and finally made it to the interview a good half an hour behind schedule.
She hadn’t wanted that job too bad anyway. Not compared to this one. She had dreamed of getting this job since she was a teen, ever since she realized she wanted to be an editor. And she just blew it. She’d graduated top of her class without a scratch on her record and couldn’t begin to fathom why these companies weren’t taking her.
Today had been a wake up call. Thinking about the dirty looks other women around the office were giving her chilled her body further than it already was in the winter air. She knew she should have worn completely long sleeves, not just quarter length. Looking down at her harm, she could see all that ink playing peek-a-boo in the exposed space of skin between her glove and sleeve. Her parents had told her she would eventually regret getting so many tattoos. But she hadn’t listened.
She cringed, reliving the interview she’d just had not ten minutes earlier. It was the best interview she’d ever done until the very end.
“So, Ms. Jensen, I think we’re through here. Is there anything you’d like to ask me before we wrap up here?” Mr. Don Gardner asked, looking up at her through his glasses, her resume still in his hands.
She took in a shaky breath before she started speaking again, the nerves still there even after she’d sat through almost an hour-long interview with one of New York’s most successful and respected editors.

Running a hand through her hair, she began, “Well—”.

He cut her off, “I’m sorry, do you mind me asking about your tattoos?” Crap. She’d hoped these sleeves would be long enough for people not to notice. She’d even worn a watch on her thin wrist, covering even more of the permanent designs all over her left arm. Words and patterns swirled together all up and down her arm, displaying family members names, birthdates, her favorite sayings and a big cross on her forearm surrounded by doves. Looking down, there they were. It dawned on her why no one would take her. She glared at her wrist for what seemed like forever, willing her tattoos to go away and glared even harder when they remained.

“Uh, well, yeah. I—” she spluttered. Well, here goes interview number four, she thought.

Reaching across his desk with one hand, he cut her off. “Do you mind if I have a look?” She slowly stretched her arm out towards him as he examined her arm. He gently slid her sleeve farther up the length of her arm for a better view. Turning her arm around, he pointed to each and every one, searching for an explanation of, “So what does this one mean?” or “Why this one?”
Back on the street, she made her way back home through the busy sidewalks. Before she got to the end of the block, her phone rang. She almost didn’t answer for fear that her hands would freeze off in the icy winds.

“Hello?” she sniffled, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her coat. There was a pause on the end of the line.

“Hel—Oh, excuse me,” A low voice said on the other line. The voice sounded familiar, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. He seemed to be speaking to someone else, not to her. It sounded like there was wind blowing in the background. Maybe it was just the static on her end of the phone she was hearing.

“Hello?” she repeated, wanting to know who it was.

“Ms. Jenson? Are you crying?” The voice asked. Her sniffle had given her away.

She chose to ignore his second question. “Yes, this is Ms. Jenson, who is this?”

“It’s Don—Don Gardner,” he answered.
She stopped dead in her tracks, her mouth popping open slightly. She snapped it closed and kept walking after realizing she stopped in the middle of a crosswalk. Why was he calling her? She had only left his office about two minutes ago.

“Oh,” was all she could manage.

“We’d like to offer you the internship here,” he states, his voice unwavering on the other line.
Oh! She kept walking but was unable to prevent her jaw from smacking the salty sidewalk, dragging it along beside her feet as reached the other block.
“Are you sure?” she gasped into her phone, thinking about her arm.
Just then someone from behind slammed against her. Her phone went flying and crashed into the pavement, and she watched helplessly as it was trampled by the shiny shoes of a few oblivious businessmen. As she chased after it and bent down to pick it up, a hand reached out and beat her to it. She followed the hand up an arm and finally to his face.

“Are you declining our offer, Ms. Jensen?” It was Don.
He stood, one eyebrow raised as he held her phone out to her. She slowly stood up, stunned that he was there. Had he been following her this whole time? She couldn’t even think of what to say. She almost did decline based purely on the fact that she was kind of freaked out. Did she really want to work with a possible stalker? But she knew that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that he was giving her a job she needed very badly.

She looked back and forth between him and her phone before answering, “No, of course not. I accept, thank you. So much.” And then her curiosity stepped in as she finally retrieved her phone. ”I’m sorry, were you following me?” The question was out before she could stop it. She felt the blood that rushed to her face from her embarrassed blush warm her cheeks.

He looked a little confused before realizing what she was talking about then simply smiled and shook his head before gesturing towards the Starbuck’s right next to them. “We’ll need you to start next Monday. My assistant will email you the details. Oh, and Ms. Jensen?” He asked as he stretched his arm out, revealing half of the face of a very expensive watch. With two long fingers, he pushed his sleeve farther up his wrist to see the time and she got a glimpse of the intricate patterns of his own tattoos. “Though I don’t see anything wrong with the tattoos, I know that others will.”
Well he didn’t have to tell her that. She already found that out when she walked through the office, her sleeve still pushed up her arm, workers doing double takes from their cubicles. He shoved his hands back in his pockets, and strolled into the Starbuck’s off to their right. All she could do was stand there and watch him, stunned. After she lost him in the small crowd getting their afternoon coffee, she finally let out a heavy sigh of relief. She couldn’t help the big smile that spread across her face as she walked away, this time with a hop in her step.