Heart of stone

May's eyes wandered around the empty house, the silence suffocating her like a shroud. Her mother's laughter, once the soundtrack of their home, was now a distant memory. The pain of her loss still lingered, a gaping wound that refused to heal. Her father, once a pillar of strength, had crumbled under the weight of his grief. He had remarried just a few months later, and the house had transformed into a cold, unforgiving place.

May remembered the day her stepmother had moved in. The sound of suitcases being dragged up the stairs, the smell of unfamiliar perfume, and the feeling of being pushed aside. Her father's love had slowly dwindled, replaced by indifference and neglect. Her stepmother, a woman with a pinched face, had never shown her any kindness. May was treated like a servant, forced to do the household chores and cook meals for the family.

As she grew older, May realized that she had to fend for herself. She took up odd jobs, cleaning houses and washing dishes to make ends meet. The work was grueling, but she persevered, driven by her determination to build a better future.

Months later, May proudly graduated from California State University, a testament to her resilience and hard work. The smell of freshly cut grass, the sound of cheering crowds, and the feel of her mother's ring on her finger had made the moment unforgettable. She had done it, despite all odds.

Armed with her degree, May eagerly sought employment, hoping to escape the clutches of poverty. But as she prepared for the interviews, she realized that her wardrobe was a liability. The clothes she owned were old, worn out, and threadbare. She had no choice but to make do with what she had.

The day of the crucial interview arrived, and May carefully prepared the outfit she had chosen. It was a simple dress, a far cry from the designer suits she had seen other applicants wear, but it was the best she could afford. She ironed it meticulously, the steam rising like a mist, smoothing out the wrinkles that seemed to mirror the lines of worry etched on her face.

As she walked into the reception area, the fluorescent lights overhead seemed to hum in sync with her racing heart. The receptionist, a woman with an air of polished indifference, glanced up from her computer screen, her eyes lingering on May's dress. The unspoken disapproval stung like a slap.

"Excuse me," May began, her voice barely above a whisper. "Could you please direct me to the interview room for the marketing position?"

The receptionist pointed towards a bank of elevators, her voice devoid of warmth. "Take the elevator to the tenth floor, turn left, and you'll see the waiting room."

May managed a weak smile. "Thank you."

As she stepped out of the elevator on the tenth floor, a cloud of shame descended upon her. The waiting room was filled with impeccably dressed individuals, each exuding an air of confidence and success. They were clad in the latest and most expensive clothing, their polished shoes gleaming under the bright lights. May felt like an imposter, a misplaced puzzle piece in a picture of affluence.

She took a deep breath, straightened her dress, and walked into the interview room. Three interviewers sat behind a large table, their expressions unreadable. She offered a polite greeting, trying to project an air of confidence despite the butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

The interview was a blur of questions and answers, but May could sense the judgmental gaze of the interviewers. Two of them had already written her off, their eyes conveying a subtle disdain that was impossible to ignore.

A day later, May received the dreaded email. She hadn't gotten the job. The final statement of the letter was a vague explanation that she didn't meet the requirements for the position. May knew that the real reason was her appearance.

Crushed but not defeated, May dressed in her usual work clothes and set off to Joe's Cafe, where she worked as a barista. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped her like a warm hug, and the friendly chatter of the customers lifted her spirits.

As she made coffee for the customers, they commended her for her skills, her creativity, and her warm smile. May found solace in their kind words, a reminder that she was valued and appreciated, even if she didn't fit the mold of a corporate professional.

One afternoon, as May was wiping down the counter, Joe, the owner of the cafe, approached her with a concerned look on his face. "May, you seem down lately," he said, his voice gentle. "What's troubling you?"

May hesitated, unsure whether to confide in her boss. But Joe had always been a supportive and understanding friend, so she decided to open up. She told him about her struggles to find a job, her financial difficulties, and her disappointment at being judged based on her appearance.

Joe listened patiently, his eyes filled with empathy. When she had finished, he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "May, you are one of the most talented and hardworking people I know," he said. "Don't let anyone tell you that you're not good enough. Your worth is not determined by your clothes or your job title. It's determined by your character, your skills, and your passion."

Joe's words resonated with May, giving her a renewed sense of hope. She realized that she couldn't let the rejection and judgment of others define her. She had to keep fighting for her dreams, even if it meant taking a different path than she had initially envisioned.

May was on the verge of giving up on her dreams, but she decided to give it one last try. She knew that she couldn't change the way the world perceived her, but she could change the way she perceived herself. She would no longer allow her appearance to hold her back. She would focus on her strengths, her skills, and her unwavering determination to succeed.