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Dale leaned back in the uncomfortable plastic chair, as if trying to get more distance between himself and Amos. The sunlight leaking through the atrium ceiling made him blink, and the loamy scent of the misplaced jungle tickled his sinuses. His heart throbbed in his temples and throat.
A job interview? “I’m happy where I am,” Dale said.
“Hearing me out won’t harm you,” Amos said, “and it might be to your benefit.” That early-stage beard and the battered jeans clashed with the tidy haircut and his blatantly inflated speech. He was using his appearance as a statement, or trying to make a point.
Whatever that point was, Dale didn’t like it. Walk away? His counselor back in school had said walking away was rude, though. Would it hurt to give Amos a couple of minutes?
“All right.” Dale
