Work in Law

Sterling bought me a drink, whoever he was. I think he came with a girl someone went to school with, some girl who studied psychology. Spent the entire night wondering if people were reading into what I was saying. And me, not even bothering to think about the words that were coming out of my mouth. I don't know, maybe not, but it seems like a dangerous combination.

But he seemed stand-up enough and free drinks are free drinks. He had nothing to do with psychology or psychiatry, nothing aside from his connection to the girl, the woman, a future doctor. I thought about where they lived in relation to me. What did I study? Where have I gone?

But Sterling was here and he bought me a drink. He said he worked in law, about to start at a firm, something to do with lawyers. I asked him what he meant and he couldn't clarify, he was a paralegal and that was enough. But he was happy to have a job and he was buying the drinks. I never need more that that. He'll get his check eventually, he'll go home to his spaghetti. He'll figure out what side of the law he's really on.