Catch My Fall Read Online Free Page A

extra mile I’d gone, every midnight meal, every last minute flight I’d managed to catch, just in order to please some client who I knew from experience, was just as desperate for business as I – as my firm was. When the bank called a dozen times a day, I sat in front of my computer, willing it to bring good news. I spent my days waiting, praying, assuring the mortgage company that my prospects were looking up and if all went well, I would be able to make my payment.
    That miracle didn’t happen. They went with ‘the other guy.’ The bank stopped calling. They foreclosed. I was evicted. My condo sold at auction to some young single guy, perhaps even the guy who’d swooped in and stolen the only job prospect I’d had. What a cosmic glitch that would be.
    I stared at the screen, my stomach churning out of habit alone as it saw the lines of job positions in bold purple and pink. This was my exit strategy, my road to reclaim my life. Yet, the life I built overworking myself, smiling through exhaustion - that castle was built on sand. One good wave and it was gone.
    I held the cup of tea to my lips, letting the steam warm my face as I tried to focus on something else, something hopeful. I couldn’t. I was still mourning.
    My resume and info was already programmed into my account so if something caught my eye, I was ready to pass my life along. There were random jobs, some temp work here and there; the same lines of repeated positions that were kept constantly open due to high turnover rate. These positions had been unacceptable to me once, but a few more months of mooching off of my mother and shoveling shit might start looking good. I highlighted a temp job, but something caught my eye. Marketing Strategist , the position read.
    I took a breath. The position had opened at a firm still located in Concord. I quickly opened the link.
    Bachelor’s Degree? Check. Previous work of at least five years? Check. Willing to travel? Check.
    I stared at the ‘Click to Apply’ button for five minutes. Somehow, the promise of work, of the same, well paid, busy work that for seven years I busted my ass doing, felt almost ominous. I couldn’t decide whether this was Inertia having set in – an ass on the couch is inclined to remain an ass on the couch – or if it was the remains of my dashed hopes the last time I’d applied for something. I thought of the running tab of rent not paid and lunches bought by well-meaning friends and clicked the link. I attached my resume, rewrote my cover letter and a second later it was gone.
    I stared at the screen a few moments, sipped the last of my tea, and made a decision. I was going for a walk.
    The air was cool and damp from the chilly night before. It was only halfway into September, but the weather was beginning to hint at its intentions, scouring the earth with burning heat for a couple days, then leaving a frost the third night. Today was the first cool day that week. I was content to be out in it.
    Autumn in New England is my favorite time of year – the leaves, the breeze, the smell of the air and the familiar whir of tourists sailing by on their mountain bikes. I reached Concord Center, crossed the rotary and headed down Main Street. I passed the Mill Dam that still traveled just under the street. My grandmother had once told me about the scores of musket balls they found when the town dug up the Mill Dam to lay a parking lot - hundreds of tiny musket balls once dumped there by villagers who refused to let the Red Coats have their munitions. Concord was an interesting town for stories.
    I slipped into the Main Street Café for a cannoli and a coffee. Yes, it cost ten dollars – no I wasn’t working. Luckily, and much to the chagrin of my pride, I had a very generous mother.
    I snacked at one of the corner tables, and listened to the voices around me. Someone had left a newspaper at the table, and I borrowed a pen to do the crossword. When I was stumped by four down, I found myself