The day of the final interview arrived with a grey, oppressive sky. The atmosphere in the waiting room was thick with anxiety. Three other candidates were there, but Claire only had eyes for Morgan.
He looked impeccable in a navy suit, his hair swept back, his expression one of calm confidence. He looked like the perfect candidate. Claire, in a tailored cream suit, felt like a coiled spring.
They didn't speak. They didn't even look at each other. The tension between them was a physical entity, a humming wire stretched to the breaking point.
"Claire Vance," the secretary called.
Claire stood up, smoothed her skirt, and walked into the office. The interview was a grueling hour of interrogation by three of the most prestigious professors in the department. They challenged her theories, po
