The interview panel felt like a wall, their faces blurring into a judgmental mural. Liam fidgeted, his fingers twisting the worn fabric of his jeans. He could feel the familiar thrum of anxiety behind his ribs. He stole a glance at Mark, his best friend, who sat beside him, radiating a confident calm. Mark had always been the golden boy, the one who effortlessly charmed everyone. Liam felt a familiar hollowness in his stomach, a space usually filled with the warmth of Mark’s approval. He desperately hoped, more than he wanted the job itself, that Mark wouldn’t be disappointed in him.
The receptionist’s words, a cheery reminder to be “ourselves,” seemed to echo in Liam’s head. Himself. He wasn't even sure who that was without Mark’s presence. He knew what Mark thought was good, what Mark found interesting, how Mark navigated the world. He clung to those certainties like a lifeline.
He wished Mark would give him a reassuring nod, a sign that he was doing okay. The silence in the waiting room was a thick, suffocating blanket. He felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple. The interview was a test not just of his skills, but of his standing with Mark. Failure wasn’t just about the job; it was about losing something vital.