...Wright Lane (A Vignette) - April

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Y'know, I would've assumed that Murph had his own issues about me being a camp counselor. For starters, it isn't a yearly thing.

Nope. He jumped onboard. Without thought. Without a problem.

He actually started filling out my application for me. While he was working. While I was working.

He's gonna kill himself someday, but right now, I'm real thankful for it.

"Are you excited?" he asks for the tenth time. He asks because I'm sitting in the lobby waiting for my second interview. This one's in-person.

"Yes." It's weird, I actually am. I didn't think I would, but the thought of learning how to shoot with a bow and arrow over the summer makes me kinda nervous.

"Do you have your CV?"

"Yes." It's so fucking awful. I have, like, 10 jobs on it except they're all less than a year. Working behind the counter at a betting shop, bartending, cashier, delivery guy. Only one's more than a year long. My education is worse. I only finished secondary school by the skin of my teeth.

I looked at what other CV's are supposed to look like.

I'm fucked.

Murph's insistent with his dog-like enthusiasm. "You can do it!" he shouts into the phone.

"Shhhh!" I hiss, reminding myself that I need to work with him on volume control. "Murph, I have everything I need." He made sure I had it before I left my flat, too. What else did he help me with, besides writing my damn CV for me?

Picked out my clothes.

Found the best way to the interview.

Mock interviews held before all this.

Talking points reviewed.

Murph's anxiety in me doing good must be exhausting him so badly.

I look at the clock. "Murph, I gotta go. My interview's coming up, okay?"

"Okay," he breathes. The way he does it, I can hear the smile. "You'll be great."

Again, the relentless enthusiasm for me is a huge ego boost. "...I'll probably just do okay."

"No. No. You'll be great. And if they don't hire you, I'll murder them."

I can just imagine Murph apologizing someone for hitting them in the head the wrong way – "Oh my God, I'm so sorry! That swing was supposed to kill you. Let me try again." I snort.

"You'll be great, Tommy."

"...thanks, luv."

"Okay, I'll let you go. Call me when it's all done, okay?"

"Mhm." The call ends.

And I'm left to sit in silence for a little while longer before they call my name. 

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