That night she barely slept.
She laid out the cleanest clothes she had.
Dark slacks from her old office job.
A simple blue blouse.
A cardigan with one loose thread at the cuff.
At midnight she pulled up old code samples.
At one she reviewed database basics.
At two she read documentation until the words blurred.
At three she finally shut the laptop and stared into darkness while her mind sprinted circles around fear.
What if this was pity after all?
What if she embarrassed herself?
What if the conversation was nothing more than coffee and gratitude and a polite “we’ll be in touch”?
What if Mr. Talbot showed up at five and she had nothing?
Around dawn she drifted for maybe forty minutes.
Then the alarm went off.
Everything hurt.
But underneath the fear was something else now.
Something she had not felt in months.
Movement.
Possibility.
She showered fast, pinned back her hair, and put on the blue blouse.
