Wandering

The plants I’d bought to make this place feel more like home reached toward the sunlight, uncomplicated in their desires. My fingers traced the spines of law books on the shelf - Torts, Contracts, Constitutional Law - each one a brick in the wall I’d built around myself. They’d hammered the laws into my head until I could recite them in my sleep, but no one had taught me the statutes governing a heart in free fall.

The coffee maker hummed, its rhythm matching my pulse.

It feels so inviting, the idea of just… letting go. Of admitting that maybe, just maybe, I wanted more than case files and client meetings.

The steam rose from my new cup like the questions that kept me awake at night: Was it weakness to want both career and connection?