second year kyra posey

Others rush by you but you don’t see them. You’re too focused to notice them now, too fixated on the feeling of your stomach’s weightlessness. The rest of your body feels heavy, and you can only think about what’s ahead of you.

You look forward, eyes locked on the door you’re prepared to enter. Are you prepared? You’ve run through a hundred scenarios to prepare for this one moment. “Will they think I’m boring? How will I seem?”

“They’ll love you,” said your friend/mother/father on the phone last night at 11:24 p.m., right before you went to sleep. “You know that everybody loves you, so you don’t have to worry.”

“This isn’t the only opportunity like this,” you tell yourself. You’re playing with your ring, now, to deflect the nervous anticipation that wreaks havoc on your body. “Plenty of other students have an internship/job/study abroad trip. Not everyone gets their first choice. Whatever happens doesn’t define you or your success.”

A woman with a neat bun in a crisp, white blouse calls your name. Your stomach gets lighter, and your body feels heavier as you go through the door and into the office with floor-to-ceiling windows.

You only notice the woman in front of you, a different woman from the one before, her long brown hair flowing down her back. She has a blue pant suit on with brown flats. She’s what you want to be in ten, fifteen years. She smiles, and you feel lighter now.

“What’s your name?” she says. “And why do you want this opportunity?”

“This where I come out on top,” you think.

Waiting