The Grundtext
The strange thing is that Sarra and I knew each other. Of this I was quite sure. I know what you are going to say. That girl was named Ingrid. But look at her. I know that was twenty years ago, but I never doubted it for a second. "Ingrid," I blurted out when I walked into the interview. She looked at me, her face completely flat. If she recognized me, she was the best actor in the world. She looked at the boss. She looked back at me and smiled. "I think you have me mixed up with someone else." The boss looked uneasy. I now know this meant nothing. He always looks like that. But I had no idea then. I nodded slowly. Something strange was going on here.
I hadn't looked too much into the company. It had a good website, a great salary, and I had sent out about a hundred applications and this was the only interview I got. It wasn't like I needed to check. But now I wondered. I should at least look at reviews. Ha. Laughable. As if I would turn down the paycheck because everyone was awkward and lied about their pasts. Whatever. Look at me paying rent, eating stuff, having a beer. They could keep people chained up in the basement for all I care. Okay, I wouldn't want to know about it, but you get what I'm saying.
"I'm Sarah," Ingrid said. We shook. I started to blush. I don't think I had ever blushed in my life. It was like I was twelve again, my first day at summer camp, Ingrid looking up from where she was braiding a lanyard and smiling at me. "Whose that boy," she said, leaning over to a friend.
"Sarrrrrrra," the boss said, rolling the r in a proficient but sleazy way, looking at her like he owned her.
"It's spelled S-a-r-r-a," Sarra said, ignoring the boss's leer. This gave me some hope. For a moment, I thought she might be with him. I checked her ring finger. There was some hope here. To find your childhood crush twenty years later. And to have her not be the same girl who you so thoroughly embarrassed yourself with as a twelve-year old. And I was going to be raking in cash at this job. I looked around for the hidden camera.
"Two r's," I said. "I like it." Though, of course, you're real name is Ingrid.
I hadn't looked too much into the company. It had a good website, a great salary, and I had sent out about a hundred applications and this was the only interview I got. It wasn't like I needed to check. But now I wondered. I should at least look at reviews. Ha. Laughable. As if I would turn down the paycheck because everyone was awkward and lied about their pasts. Whatever. Look at me paying rent, eating stuff, having a beer. They could keep people chained up in the basement for all I care. Okay, I wouldn't want to know about it, but you get what I'm saying.
"I'm Sarah," Ingrid said. We shook. I started to blush. I don't think I had ever blushed in my life. It was like I was twelve again, my first day at summer camp, Ingrid looking up from where she was braiding a lanyard and smiling at me. "Whose that boy," she said, leaning over to a friend.
"Sarrrrrrra," the boss said, rolling the r in a proficient but sleazy way, looking at her like he owned her.
"It's spelled S-a-r-r-a," Sarra said, ignoring the boss's leer. This gave me some hope. For a moment, I thought she might be with him. I checked her ring finger. There was some hope here. To find your childhood crush twenty years later. And to have her not be the same girl who you so thoroughly embarrassed yourself with as a twelve-year old. And I was going to be raking in cash at this job. I looked around for the hidden camera.
"Two r's," I said. "I like it." Though, of course, you're real name is Ingrid.