The smell of last night's pizza wafted through our morning coffee, overpowering the aroma of over-brewed grounds. I awkwardly juggled spoon and pastry, trying not to get crumbs on my interview outfit for a job I was fairly certain I couldn't get. My cat sat nearby, staring judgmentally at a spot where she wished I had scratched her properly.
I was about to spill the coffee – a disaster – when my roommate strolled in, wearing sweatpants that were somehow more wrinkled than my future. He gave me an air-hug and said I'd knock it out of the ballpark. "Knock what out of the ballpark?" I asked, and he froze with a mouthful of cereal, looking puzzled.
I was about to spill the coffee – a disaster – when my roommate strolled in, wearing sweatpants that were somehow more wrinkled than my future. He gave me an air-hug and said I'd knock it out of the ballpark. "Knock what out of the ballpark?" I asked, and he froze with a mouthful of cereal, looking puzzled.
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