Emma came and sat next to me, putting her arm around me. I didn't respond. I had given up hope. The dream was over. And in the silence of the darkened room, I felt a profound sense of loss, a grief for a future that had never been.
I felt Emma's hand on my back, rubbing slow, comforting circles. "Talk to me, Danny," she said softly. "Don't just sit there in the dark."
I took a deep breath, the air shuddering in my lungs. "There's nothing to say. They said a week. It's been a week. They've given it to someone else. Someone with a better CV, someone who didn't manage a pub team a year ago."
"You don't know that," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "It's a big club, Danny. They have processes. They have HR. They probably have a department dedicated to deciding what kind of biscuits to have in meetings. It takes time."
"It's over, Em," I whispered, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. "I was stupid to even think…"
