"Why should we give you this job?"
"Why?" I repeated, raising my eyebrows at my interviewer, a young man by the name of Matthew Pines. He nodded as he fixed his glasses.
"Yes, why do you think you deserve to work here?" he rephrased the question.
"Well," I start in a calm manner, just like I have for all of the other questions he has asked me. "It's everything I've been working for. Even when I messed up and had decreased my chances of getting this job, I couldn't let it go. You can ask anyone, I've been putting my all into this. I work hard, I won't let you down. I can bring new ideas and I'm willing to be open to new suggestions. I'll give my everything."
He nodded, seeming satisfied with my answer as he wrote something down on the paper before him. "Okay. So why do you want to work here? What's gotten you interested in working here?"
I thought for a moment. There were many things that had made me want to work with Disney and Pixar. "My dad," I answered softly, looking down at my hands. "When I was younger, he worked a lot, but when he was home we'd always watch animated movies together. I guess he could tell that I really loved them, so he helped me learn how to draw."
"He taught you?" Matthew asked and I nodded. "What was his job?"
"Oddly enough, his job had nothing to do with drawing," I chuckled, tucking my hair behind my ear. "He was a patent attorney. He helped me with the basics and it spiraled from there."
"He must be very proud of you," Pines, said, giving me a kind smile.
"He would be," I murmured, clearly louder than I had planned it to be, for he looked up at my words.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know..." he apologized, his lips turning down at the corners.
"It's okay," I shrugged, rubbing the end of my sleeve between my fingers as I did. "It was a while ago."
"Well, in that case," Matthew Pines positioned his pen above his paper. "Who inspires you now?"
"Um," I looked down at my hands and chipped at the dark paint on my nails that now matches Michael's hair. "My close friends and my family."
"Ah, that's good that you still maintain close relationships after everything." Pines nodded approvingly as he scribbled something down on his clipboard.
"What do you mean?" I raised my eyebrows at him.
"Well," Pines looked at something on his paper and looked back up at me. "I understand that you had some, uh...problems with alcohol."
"I'm all better now," I said defensively, sitting up a little straighter in my seat.
"Oh, I didn't mean to offend you," he said apologetically, raising one of his hands with his palm out to me. "Your progress the past couple months has been astounding. Varying from your new mural at the wall to the little comics. The superheroes."
"I'll be sure to tell my friend Michael that," I chuckled. "He wanted me to come up with alter egos for him and his friends."
"They're awesome," he said a little excitedly and I found myself a bit more at ease. For the first time, I noticed the tiny action figures on his desk by his desktop computer. He reminded me a little of the boys.
"Thanks," I smiled.
"So, um," he cleared his throat, probably trying to brush over his boyish excitement at the thought of superheroes. "To get back on track, how did you overcome your addiction? Did you join a support group or...?"
"Ah, no," I shook my head, my hand coming to rest on my chest. My fingers found the small crescent charm Michael had given me so long ago. For the first time, I felt a little sad. I found myself with the desire to be back home, laying on the couch with my head on Michael's lap as I read to him.
