Firm

Monday morning meetings are the worst. You step out of the elevator onto the floor of your office, and move past the receptionist into the hallway where your fellow attorneys walk between rooms lethargically. You stride past open doors under fluorescent lights until you reach the door of your own small office. Outside at a cubicle is your assistant, a promising hire about to enter law school, about five years your junior.

"Remember, Laura," he says to you as you walk past, "you've got a deposition in ten minutes."

You smile and thank him as you pass into your office to gather your notes. You're meeting with the person your clients are suing, along with whoever their lawyers are, to ask them questions you can use as evidence during trial. The papers on your desk flutter as you push them to the sides, revealing a folder buried under the clutter which you snatch and take out of the room with you.

You couldn't say exactly when it was you decided you wanted to be a lawyer, but you've never been one to let injustice stand. It's been a few years since you graduated law school, and you're proud of what you've accomplished since. Though you haven't climbed the ranks as fast as some of your school friends - mostly because you would never go against your beliefs for your own gain - your passion for helping the underdog has earned you the trust and respect of your clients, and a favorable attitude from the higher-ups where you work.

As you walk into the conference room, you see that someone's already there, leaning back in their chair with hands behind their head. When they see you enter they stand up. You recognize them as the defendant.

"You must be Laura," they say.

"Yes," you answer, "but please, call me Ms. Mailer." You look around at the rest of the room, confirming there's no one else there. "Where's your legal team?"

"I figured that we would be able to settle without any of this legal stuff. I don't see a reason to bother."

You narrow your eyes. "I highly doubt my clients would be willing to settle outside of court."

They smile. "Oh, I feel confident that I can reach an agreement with you and your firm."

They pause slightly before the last word and say it deliberately. As they do, you feel some kind of feeling enter your chest. Almost like there's a tingling coming from it, but not something physical, it feels like some sort of expectation, like a palpable sense of something about to happen, very strong. You feel your breath shorten and your head starts to spin.

You shake your head slightly, clearing it a little bit, though the feeling stays in your chest. You don't trust your speech, so you look down at your notes to try and distract yourself.