Another interview, another thoughts brought to the hoping table. I stepped in with enthusiasm, convinced myself on this occasion I will be lucky. My optimistic insights were telling me I should try again and again, ignoring all those racist glances, till get it successful. Another tour of questions with the same nuances. Another brilliant answers till my eyes sensed a boring mood in the interviewer face, ticking boxes in their pages. A wrong question from the panel broke down my confidence. Seemed they didn’t read well my resume. I might be again just a number in their protocol to ensure there were enough candidates on the plate.
I stepped out full of doubts. Thousands of thoughts were fighting at the entrance of my mind. Definitely that place couldn’t define me. 
A man was playing piano in the corridor. I stopped a while to listen and in few minutes a peace surrounded me whispering a song of fortitude. Sometimes being just a number bring deep lessons. 
I smiled with force and didn’t look back. 

© Simona Prilogan, 15/08/2019, Nottingham


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