From the murky windows of his tiny apartment, he glanced at the cars zooming on the crisscrossing highways next to skyscrapers as the last trace of sunlight disappeared in the horizon. Through the skyscraper windows, some lights flashed on like fireflies in the night, sparking his hope that he’s the person working inside. The white light from the cheap laptop on his couch bed reminded him to keep sending job applications. But the piles of rejection letters made his tingling hope fade away. He remembered his Dad patting him on the shoulder while his Mom wiping off tears when he boarded the city train at his old farm where he grew up.

          With a deep sigh, he shut his laptop and pulled out the battered suitcase, stuffing all his belongings into it. At the moment that he turned open the doorknob, he waited. 

          “Wait for what?” He asked himself. He dropped on the cold floor, tears racing down his cheeks. The silence surrounding him almost suffocated him with each second passing. 

          Dinging sounds came from the telephone cut through the air. He quickly leaped up and picked up the phone.

         “Mr. Thompson, can you start working tomorrow?”