“Loyalty. I’m loyal because I will do absolutely anything for my loved ones, along with anyone who’s offered me their respect and trust. That goes for my employers and coworkers, too, sir. You could say my perseverance and drive are actually, like, fundamentally rooted in my sense of loyalty. And so that’s essentially what motivates me to achieve and accomplish and, and overcome whatever challenges or obstacles life or the workplace might hurl my way. Loyalty.”

Henry is back in the courtroom. There’s Al at the defendant’s table, quiet sobs folding his chin into his throat.

“Loyalty,” Henry says, louder, because no more distractions. He splashes bathwater over his face. It drips.

“And dependable. Accountable, which, I suppose, goes hand in hand with the other two, wouldn’t you say, sir? And as unwavering as my loyalty is to those I care about, so is my sense of duty, in that, you can, you know, count on me? When you need something taken care of, you won’t ever have to think twice or second-guess whether the task or job or project or whatever will get done, promptly and to the utmost standards, as in, so long as you’ve put it in my hands. You know, if you trusted me—sir. Because I say what I mean and I meant what I said, an elephant’s faithful one hundred percent.”

Their after-school trips to the public library have clearly left their mark on Henry. After he’s burned through his daily one-hour allotment of internet access on job shopping and scrambling to arrange handyman or moving or metal-scrapping gigs on Craigslist for the week, he always joins Junior in the children’s section to practice reading out loud. Keeping the Dr. Seuss references to a minimum during tomorrow’s interview would be prudent. After all, even Junior has outgrown picture books. But still, Henry can’t help but ask himself, if he’s the elephant who gets duped into climbing up a tree to sit on that abandoned egg, then does that make Michelle the mama bird? And, if so, does that mean she’ll come back someday, too?

His teeth clench, his head shakes. He shuffles the deck of note cards. The next reads: What makes you more qualified than the other candidates?

Diddly. Jackshit. Fuck all.

His jaw lowers, accepting a reservoir of bathwater to gargle away his initial response, the truth. All the online forums say the same thing, how you can’t convince a hiring manager of your talents or qualifications if you’re not convinced of them yourself. How studies show flexing chest out and chin up in front of a mirror for two minutes has proven effective in generating testosterone for preinterview confidence. He spouts an arc of bathwater from his mouth.

“The scope of my experience, sir, allows for the practical application of the three strengths I’ve just identified.”