32: Scrapping to Make End Meet
Friday morning, Conor arrived early at Jackson’s Furniture. The familiar creak of the old wooden floors under his feet echoed his anxiety as he approached Mr. Matthews' office. The door was slightly ajar, and Conor hesitated for a moment before knocking gently.

"Mr. Matthews, do you have a minute?"

Mr. Matthews looked up from his paperwork and offered a small smile. "Yes, Conor, come on in. What’s on your mind?"

Conor swallowed his pride, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him. "This is a tough thing to ask, as I know I’ve only been here a short while. But is there any chance you could pay me for this week's work at the end of the shift? The end-of-month bills are due, and I’m still a bit short."

Mr. Matthews leaned back in his chair, studying Conor’s face. "I see. Well, you’ve been working hard, Conor, and it’s money you’ve earned. You also made a decent sale on your first day. See me after your shift, and I’ll have your hours calculated."

Relief washed over Conor, a
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