If Time Stands Still

63- funk

Aylin's POV

"Right this way, Miss Kara." The lady at the info desk directs me to the elevator where a woman who looks no older than thirty awaits me.

I feel my shoulders relax with a heavy exhale as I walk over to her with a smile and my arm outstretched, "Hi." I greet her, delighted by the fact that she's only a few years older than me. Though I'd still maintain a professional persona, a smaller age gap is always comforting.

"Oh," she quickly takes my hand before we step into the elevator, smiling politely back, "I'm not the one interviewing you, if you're under that impression. I was just told to get you."

"Oh." I wince. Already I'm not off to a great start.

"But you're gonna do great!" She assures me as she turns around to push some buttons.

I take another deep, much needed breath as I look at myself in the surrounding mirrors. I don't look half bad for someone who woke up just two hours ago.

After opting for a ruffled white shirt to pair with my flared beige pants and heels, I was almost corporate ready, but not quite since my hair still had to be done. Thank goodness for mom who was still home and happily did a braided bun for me while I perfected my makeup. I haven't properly done that in nearly three weeks. Correction, I haven't done anything much in nearly three weeks.

In all honesty, I had no intention of waking up for this interview today until Luke called to remind me. It didn't slip my mind nor was I feeling sick or anything like that, but I explained to him just how... pointless it all feels.

Since losing my job, I've sent roughly fifteen applications for available positions at a handful  of interesting companies. It took me a while to build up the courage to do so in fear of rejection. Out of those fifteen or so applications, I got three phone interviews and two face to face ones. Everyone else either never got back to me at all or sent me that dreadful "we regret to inform you" email.

Those five words are enough to put anyone down. I suppose it's better that they rip the band-aid off as opposed to having me sit and wonder, but it still stings.

The only way I knew how to cope was to stay in bed where I could waste away in peace. It got so bad that even dad came up to my room several times to check up on me. I'm glad he did, because that out of character behaviour from him was enough to make me realize just how out of it I must've seemed to everyone else.

Realistically, I knew I had  to get back out there, but all I wanted to do is lay in despair. I've been doing that all weekend anyway, but I'm especially unprepared for today... a Monday. Everyone else has already had their boost of morning coffee and energized themselves for the work weed ahead, much like I'm supposed to since work is where I thrive, but I've been wallowing in self-pity.

Thank God for Luke's lecturing that was more effective than the iPhone alarm sound.

I have to thank Zayn too since he's been assuring me every other day that the unsuccessful applications were probably for the best, that something better must be awaiting me.

It's been a week since we last saw each other. He's been exhausted from working after hours at the clinic, as well as editing his paper every night which will be getting reviewed in a couple of days. Needless to say, he's had his hands full lately.

Though we talk every day, I do miss him. However,  I didn't really mind the few days of not seeing each other since I've been in a funk. He's been occupied and I've been ridiculously unproductive. It's almost embarrassing— especially in comparison to him... but I digress.