But something about his face struck me hard.
The shape of his jaw.
The curve of his smile.
It looked like the man my son might’ve grown into!
It was just a coincidence.
I sat, staring at the photo.
There was a seven-year gap in his work history.
And right below that gap was a short explanation: incarcerated.
Most people would’ve tossed the resume aside right then.
I didn’t. Maybe it was the memories of my late son that made me do what I did.
Instead, I picked up the phone and called the number on the page.
Most people would’ve tossed the resume.
Barry arrived for the interview the following afternoon.
When he stepped into the office and sat across from me, he looked nervous but determined.
The resemblance hit me even harder.
For a moment, I couldn’t speak.
He gave a small, awkward smile.
“I appreciate the chance to interview, sir.”
His voice pulled me back to reality.
He looked nervous but determined.
I glanced down at the resume again.
“You’ve got a gap here,” I said.
“Yes, sir. I made mistakes in my youth,” he said quietly. “I paid for them. I just want a chance to prove I’m not that person anymore.”
His honesty surprised me. Most people would have danced around the subject.
I studied him carefully.
The more I looked, the more the strange feeling. He looked so much like my Barry that it felt as if I were sitting across from him.
“You’ve got a gap here.”
Then I made a decision.
“Job starts Monday,” I said.
Barry blinked in surprise. “You’re serious?”
“I don’t joke about hiring.”
His shoulders dropped with relief.
“Thank you,” he said. “You won’t regret it!”
I believed him, but Karen didn’t.
The moment I told my wife about the new hire that evening, she exploded.
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