I blew it. My final interview question for The Job. I sit in the train’s Quiet Car. Signs read, “No talking or music. No cell phones.” No loss. No one will be calling. “Where do you see yourself in ten years?” Director Man had asked. I hear clattering, an occasional whistle blast. Rustling wrappers. Whispers rising. The conductor’s stern warning. Pops of carbonated beverage cans. Coughs. Giggles. A shush from three rows back. Show drive and ambition, the career center had advised. Confidence. “In your seat,” I replied. I see Director Man’s face crumple. “Where am I?” he quietly asked.
Joan Sosin lives, learns, and writes in Jacksonville, Florida. She’s published a number of nonfiction articles but, lately, has shifted to fiction and personal essays.