A name that I hope can stand on its own someday.
“Pleasure to meet you.”
I pace my apartment, not giving attention to the bare walls, not thinking about what else I need to make it feel like home. It already does, more than I expected.
More memories surface, and I brush them away, more confident this time. Tension seeps into excitement as I run through my morning like a checklist, one last time.
I savor my triumph in black and white, rereading my offer letter at the kitchen counter.
Junior Associate.
Avery Anders.
It’s a gentle nudge to my confidence, as satisfying as the purrs reverberating from Salem’s chest when I scratch behind his ear and whisper, “It’s just you and me, buddy.”
As he pads off, I drink in the apartment, the unclaimed spaces begging to be filled with something new.
My life, reassembled just for me.
My eyes wander to the minimalist furniture. Nothing extra. It reminds me how far I’ve come from the shared abundance that was Pierce’s. A furnished past I left with no guarantee of the future.
I glance again at the letter. Bishop, Hollis, & Sterling stamped across the top, legitimizing this chance I was too scared to even consider six months ago.
The memory of my interview plays like a highlight reel. The sleek glass building was modern and intimidating. Walking in, my fingers were tight around the handle of my leather briefcase, knuckles white.
The panel of partners nodded at my answers, expressionless in a way that only lawyers can manage. They watched me closely.
My nerves had convinced me they were noting how unfit I was, how thin the sheen of confidence really spread.
I could barely breathe until the elevator doors whooshed shut behind me, isolating me from their scrutiny. But I’d done it.
Even as I play it back now, I’m still amazed.
I check my watch.
Early.
I have time to spare.
I toast a piece of bread, quickly spread butter across while it’s still warm, and eat standing at the counter.
Salem leaps down from where he’s perched on the windowsill and finds his way back to me, insistent as always. The sun peeks through the window, brushing Salem’s dark fur with soft light. He winds around my legs, ticklish and light.
“Wish me luck,” I whisper, feeling silly. “It’s a new beginning.”
Salem blinks in response.
I check and recheck. Necessary items, counted and counted again. Multiple times.
Briefcase. Check. Laptop, pens, notebooks. Check. Phone, wallet, keys. Check.
I check my watch again, like I hadn’t just done it a moment ago.
Deep breath.
“Just you and me,” I remind him.
I fill his bowl and pet his head, then turn to go.
