Chapter 3
I was in my office grading papers when I heard a knock at the door. I told whoever was there that the door was open and Sean Gluski walked in. He looked a lot better than he usually did. His hair had been recently cut and he wasn’t dressed in his usual attire. Instead, he wore a white button-down shirt, a black and gray striped tie, black pants, and shined black shoes.
“Hi, Mr. Daly,” he said, closing the office door behind him.
“Hi, Sean. What can I do for you?”
He told me he had an interview later and wanted to know if I’d look over his resume to make sure everything was okay. I read through it while he sat nervously across from me, fidgeting with his tie. I could tell from his address that he lived in the Fishtown section of Philadelphia. It was a working-class, largely wh
