Samuel

Three weeks into my internship at one of the city's premium liquor distributors. The smell of oak and aged whiskey follows me everywhere now—I've even started to like it.
But there's one thing I didn't expect: Samuel. My boss. Quiet, controlled, and impossible to read. He doesn't raise his voice. He doesn't need to. One look from him and you feel like you're being evaluated from the inside out.Today is the start of my final week. I was in the tasting room, checking the new shipment, when I heard the door open behind me.:"Sofié."
I turned around. He was leaning against the doorframe, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a glass of something dark in his hand. He didn't smile—he never does. But his eyes stayed on me a second longer than necessary.
"Final week," he said, swirling the glass."You've got a good nose for this business. That's rare."
He set the glass down and looked at me:"So tell me, Sofié—what do you want out of this? And don't give me the interview answer."