The midday sun beat down on Tyler's shoulders, the heat shimmering off the grimy asphalt of the city street.
He walked with a slump, his shoulders bowed under the weight of disappointment.
The crisp white envelope, still slightly creased from his nervous grip, felt heavy in his pocket—a tangible reminder of the rejection he had just received.
Around him, the city throbbed with chaotic energy: the blare of car horns, the rhythmic thump of distant construction, the cacophony of a thousand conversations blending into a dull roar.
Yet Tyler seemed oblivious to it all, lost in his own thoughts.
The buildings, monotonous grey and brown, loomed over him like indifferent giants, their shadows stretching long and distorted in the harsh sunlight.
He passed overflowing trash cans, their contents spilling onto the sidewalk, a stark contrast to the meticulously manicured lawns visible through wrought-iron fences of wealthier neighborhoods further down the street.
His worn sneakers slapped against the cracked pavement, each step a small, defeated thud in the symphony of urban noise.
The air hung heavy with the smell of exhaust fumes, cheap takeout, and something vaguely floral from a wilting bouquet discarded in an alleyway.
His apartment building, a drab structure promising little comfort, was just a few blocks away—a destination offering only the bleak solace of solitude.
"Two months," he muttered to himself, the words catching in the back of his throat.
"Two months of applications, of interviews, of polite rejections. And for what? A certificate gathering dust on my shelf?"
I aced that course, I really did. Got top marks.
"But all I have got to show for it is a mountain of debt and a whole lot of nothing."
He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, the crumpled rejection letter a painful reminder of his failure.
"Overseas... that job... it would have been perfect. It was even an online position, but I still cannot go there. The travel costs, the visa... it is all just too much right now."
Guess it is back to the construction sites, the back-breaking work, the pittance of a paycheck. Another dead-end job. Another step further into the hole.
He sighed, the sound lost in the city's clamor.
Then he looked up.
Across the street, standing on the sidewalk near a brightly colored mural, was Sarah.
Her blonde hair, usually pulled back in a neat ponytail, was loose today, catching the sunlight like spun gold.
A phone was pressed to her ear, her brow slightly furrowed in concentration as she spoke.
For a moment, Tyler forgot his woes, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of her.
The disappointment, the frustration, the crushing weight of his job hunt—all of it faded into the background, replaced by a familiar flutter of nervous excitement.
She is beautiful. Even more than I remembered.
The fleeting hope sparked by Sarah's presence died as quickly as it ignited.
A sleek black car pulled up to the curb, its polished surface gleaming in the afternoon sun.
A young man, roughly Tyler's age, stepped out with effortless grace.
He was impeccably dressed in designer clothes, radiating a confidence that Tyler found both irritating and intimidating.
Sarah smiled—a bright, genuine smile that Tyler had only ever seen directed at him in fleeting moments—and climbed into the car.
It pulled away smoothly, leaving Tyler standing alone on the sidewalk, the sting of rejection sharper than before.
"She is one of those people," he muttered, bitterness lacing his voice.
"The kind who just... has it all. Beautiful, successful, effortlessly charming."
Someone like me? I stand no chance.
"I will probably end up alone, a bitter old man, cursing the day I was born."
Hell, I am practically evil for even thinking I could ever have a chance with someone like her.
The self-deprecating thoughts were interrupted by a hearty clap on his back.
He turned to see Mike, his friend, emerging from the convenience store nearby with a large soda in hand.
"Yo, Tyler!" Mike grinned, his voice booming through the city's noise.
"Long time no see. What is up?"
The hug that followed was surprisingly strong, a welcome distraction from the swirling vortex of Tyler's self-doubt.
Mike was a whirlwind of energy, even standing still.
He was Tyler's roommate—a fact Tyler sometimes regretted and sometimes did not.
Mike was annoying, relentlessly optimistic to a sometimes maddening degree, and possessed a confidence that bordered on arrogance.
He talked incessantly, often about things that barely registered on Tyler's radar, but he was also a good friend, offering much-needed distraction from Tyler's often bleak outlook.
And while Mike worked at the convenience store—a job that paid decently enough—his easy confidence was something Tyler envied.
Looking at Mike now, with his easy grin and that oversized soda in hand, Tyler felt a pang of something akin to resentment mixed with grudging admiration.
"What is up?" Mike asked again, his voice still loud and cheerful, oblivious to the turmoil raging within Tyler.
Tyler sighed, the sound heavy with defeat.
"Did not get the job," he mumbled, rubbing a hand over his tired face.
Mike's grin faltered, replaced by a look of genuine sympathy.
"Aw, man, that sucks," he said, clapping Tyler on the shoulder again.
"But hey, do not sweat it. You will nail it next time, I know you will. I believe in you, dude."
Tyler felt a flicker of annoyance.
"You have been saying that for two months, Mike," he said, his voice flat.
"And nothing has changed."
He paused, then added, "Hey, is there any chance of a position opening up at the convenience store? Maybe I could work with you."
Mike shrugged, his usual boundless optimism momentarily dimmed.
"I do not know, man. Things have been pretty steady lately. I will ask the manager, but do not get your hopes up."
Tyler sighed again, a longer, more exasperated sigh this time.
"I am just going home," he said, his voice weary.
"Gonna flop on the couch and try to forget about this whole mess for a while."