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    I can’t remember how much I hated being average, ordinary. It would be great now. I’m tired of this. I’m so… I’m hungry. I’m tried. I’m bored. I wonder…she’s hot. Might age poorly, definitely in her prime. Bacon ranch.
     
    His mind is like being at the bottom of a canyon, and someone is throwing rocks. I can dodge most of them, but it takes effort. Its constant and sometimes one surprises me.
     
    Alice had nicer breasts.
     
    No thought is final. Rickey Jones added, but they were probably fake. Just something she upgraded. I don’t remember them like that when we first met. I’m sure….
     
    It stings every time. He knows. Rickey Jones knows that I’m a fake. But if this is what I am now, doesn’t that count for something? I’m still me aren’t I?
     
    “Miss Collins? Alice Collins?”
    I raised my hand and shuffled past the other applicants. A few didn’t bother to look up from their smart phones. Those that did actually snarled at me. That was the state of our economy.
    The man who called my name waited impatiently at the door to the interviewer’s office. I didn’t mean to take my time. I loved moving. I loved people talking to me. It tended to drown out Rickey’s thoughts.
    “Thank you for coming today,” the well-dressed man said. I thought of thinking about his butt in those tailored pants, but it was no use. I couldn’t hurt Rickey the way he hurt me. If I wanted him to hear a thought, he would hear it and he would know I intended for him to hear it. I was way too passive aggressive for an upfront attack.
    I followed the business hottie into an office made of glass walls. Everyone applying today could look in and see what was transpiring, and of course the potential employer could gaze out on all the desperate professional women who wanted a leg up, something for the resume other than: waitress.
    The door closed after we entered, and it silenced all the little sounds in the waiting room. It felt like leaving rush hour traffic. But that moment of silence let a few more of Rickey’s inane thoughts through.
    Cheesickle. Mmm.
    “This is Alice Collins,” the business hottie said to the man standing at the window. Then he turned and directed me to a chair in front of a large desk that was sparse in its décor and use. There was a picture frame no bigger than a baseball card, a small cup of pens and one manila file folder that was about an inch thick. The rest of the office was glass, the windows promised a view, but only delivered the parking lot and the few suffering trees growing up on an island in the asphalt.
    “Alice… Alice…Collins? You dropped out of university.”
    I was caught off guard. “Yes. I…”
    “Most of the other applicants have finished their degrees, what was it that you were pursuing?”
    “Business administration and psychology.”
    “Psychology. That is one of my favorites. It’s everyone’s favorite. We go to college and we think we can unlock the secret to why people do the things that they do. We learn neat jargon that we can impose upon our parents, significant others, and even puppy dogs. It’s a lot of fun. Learning psychology is like begin a kid in the candy store.”
    “It was definitely interesting and I often…”
    “It’s modern day astrology, Miss Collins. Alice? You look like an Alice.” The man, who kept cutting me off, should be described as a fast talker with a good smile. Too good—like there were hidden fees behind its purchase and strange maintenance obligations and a time-share in Barbados.  He was taller than Rickey and if the two were in a dating competition, most women would not choose Rickey. They’d chose…
    “Samuel Winter—Campaign Manager. Don’t let me scare you or you won’t be hired. I’m looking for a particular kind of employee, Miss Collins, and I can assure you that I have met a lot of candidates today and competition is fierce. A lot of good young women have walked through that door and handed me