Hunter Jackson’s footsteps echoed softly on the narrow sidewalk, a crumpled sheet of paper clutched in his hand—a list of job openings torn from a public notice board. His once-fine shirt had lost its color, and the expensive leather shoes he used to wear now looked dull and cracked at the toes.
Today, he had to get a job.
Not a position worthy of a former director like himself. Just something that could earn him enough to eat, to survive.
That morning, he applied at a small café on the corner of town.
“We need a dishwasher,” the owner said bluntly. “Work starts at 3 PM, ends at midnight. Paid daily. Take it or leave it.”
Hunter lowered his gaze, pride still clawing at his chest. But he knew hunger was far more painful than wounded pride.
“I’ll take it,” he said quietly.
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By lat
