Gemotions

The lawyer’s office seemed to shrink with each passing hour. Her mentor, Mr. Harrison, had bequeathed her his entire law practice. The sheer weight of it, the responsibility, should have been overwhelming. Instead, she felt a strange, thrilling lightness.

The senior partner, a man named Miller, tried to offer condolences. She cut him off. Her throat felt tight. "What are the billable hours for this week?" she demanded, her voice sounding unfamiliar even to her own ears. Her fingers tapped impatiently on the mahogany desk. She wanted to know the firm's earnings.

The air in the room grew stale with the scent of old leather and opportunity. She leaned forward, the corners of her mouth twitching. Miller, with a confused look on his face, started the numbers.