MacKenzie hadn't woken Roy up as she left for work but had left another one of her notes next to the bed; two cats holding 'hands' and their tails forming a heart. MacKenzie was a girl. Roy loved it.

There was a letter in the mailbox. Enclosed was a cheque. He knew who it was from, he knew the amount disclosed was a considerable amount, he smiled, he tucked it away in a book. He knew what he would eventually use the money for. He knew.

Roy dressed quickly, combed his hair, and stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. Yes, he needed a pick me up.

He snorted a line of the cocaine off the edge of the sink.

It didn't burn his nose like he thought it would but tasted bitter down the back of his throat. He sniffed. Roy didn't know his reaction to it or if it would actually make him high. He rubbed the excess powder on his gums. His mouth tingled.

Despite the library being walking distance, well, rolling distance, Roy decided to take the car anyway. He wasn't really feeling the high yet when he got there, but when he entered the library he noticed his heart was beating faster and his eyes more alert. Roy actually felt like a million dollars.

Roy prayed the first woman wouldn't be there this time, and to his relief it was someone else. Another woman this time, putting away books with a name tag that said Leah, more like young girl, perhaps around eighteen or nineteen.

"Hi there," Roy smiled. "I saw in the paper y'all were hiring." Roy wanted roll his eyes at himself. His southern accent showed a bit more when he was nervous.

She raised an eyebrow. "You want to apply?"

"I've just moved back to the area. I was working in a public library for awhile..."

She didn't look impressed. Her arms were crossed and she was studying Roy like a hawk. Her glasses had a faint crack in them and her lips were plump but dry.

"So what can you do?"

Roy perked up.

"Uh, well I've experience with lots of uh paperwork, lots of bookkeeping stuff, yeah, busywork...Dewey Decimal System, er....st-stamps."

Don't ruin this for yourself, she's thinking about it I can tell.

"Like most of that stuff is downstairs."

"Yeah, that's how it was in my last place of employment. There was a back room in the last place. Just kind of worked on stuff there."

"You can't like, go down the stairs and sit down again can you? Because I'm not bringing stuff up for you."

"Uh..." Roy honestly didn't know what to say or how to back himself up. "...why not?"

"We do all paperwork downstairs. This is the library. This is for books. And reading. Not paperwork. Not business."

Apparently accommodations are a problem in the workplace?

"I don't understand why you just can't-"

"Oh boy, here we go," she rolled her eyes. "How can I expect you to put away books then?"

"I do that all the time," Roy insisted.

"No, these shelves are high. You said you couldn't take the stairs so how can you climb the ladder?"

"No I mean, I can stack most of them."

"No you can't."

"Yeah, I can..."

"Sweetheart you're limited."

"And that's a problem?"

"If you can't do the job properly you can't work here."

"I can do the job properly, I just can't-"

"I'm not putting books on the top shelf for you. Sorry. I'm sorry. We're not hiring." She shrugged and smiled.

She began to walk briskly back to the front desk, stopping to pick up a newspaper. Roy awkwardly nearly rammed into her heels like the previous woman. She looked annoyed.

"I think my coworker mentioned you. Didn't you come in recently?"

"Yeah and then I saw in the paper you were still hiring so I thought why the fuck not and came back."

"She told you no."

"Thought maybe she'd change her mind."

"Why are you being so persistent? How did you get here anyway?" She looked out the window. "Is anyone with you? Why are you alone?"

"I drove here..."

She was silent.

"You and I both know why you don't want to hire me and it's kind of fucking ridiculous."

"I'm sorry, you just don't understand how uncomfortable your disability makes other people."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Roy leaned in and whispered.

"Oh my god," she rolled her eyes.

Under the influence of the narcotic and rather irrational, Roy made a decision he'd later regret.

Roy decided to stand up.

He totally thought he could do it. He really did. He did it with Dahlia multiple times and even for MacKenzie. So why couldn't he do it for this bitch and prove her wrong?

So he did it.

He held onto the table with a death grip, making a good death stare with the woman and she just looked back at him annoyed and a bit confused.

And then.

Roy's knees buckled beneath him and he landed on the ground in front of her with a thud.

She peered down at him, shocked and probably embarrassed for him. Roy was MORTIFIED. Plus he was beginning to come down from the high but his heart was still pounding and he looked like a pathetic idiot. He felt crippled.

"Uh..." Roy began. He was shaking so badly, probably from the drugs and complete humiliation. He couldn't believe how hard it was to pull himself back up into his chair. His legs weren't cooperating and she kept watching him situate them as he finally was sitting up in his chair. He would have lost it if one of his legs started spasming at this point. And thankfully, he didn't.

"Yikes," she said that voice. "Wow you didn't even need my help."

Just stop. Stop being  a jailbait miserable fuckmeat and stop patronizing me.

Hot, angry, and crippled.

"You're kind of a cunt. I don't want your job. You have gross tits. Goodbye."

She looked very shocked and Roy had no remorse. Shame, however, he had a lot of that. And as he wheeled outside he was certain he wasn't going to tell MacKenzie about his idiotic decision to, he guessed, show off in front of an ableist underage librarian. There were really no other options than to take the other offer.