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Hiiiii! So I’m back after a week where everything was awful, and now everything is better. I had a thing on Saturday. An awful awful law school thing. And then I went home to my parent’s house, and I was all dazed and confused, and my mom was all, “How’d it go?” and I just sort of grunted, and she looked at me like, ‘Why do you even come home in this state?’ and then I slept from 5 pm until 9 am and everything was better.

Anyway, I have a post (below) and it’s sort of a little different. I have a bunch of these little two page fictional stories racketing around in my head. So I decided to write one, and I’m kind of hoping they’ll become a little series I do here like my “Overheard at Law School” series. I’ve been nervous about doing this because this is pure satirical fiction rather than comedy about my real life, but then I was all, fuck it it’s my blog. But seriously, please like it. Okay no more stalling. Also, DISCLAIMER: the stories and the characters are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to real-life is complete coincidence.

*****

She was flipping through her E&E looking for a particular chapter. The rustling of the pages created the slightest breeze sending the faintest hint of her shampooy scent across the table and into his nostrils. His focus was immediately lost as his mind quickly traveled back to the day they first met.

He was looking at her again. She could feel his eyes on the top of her head, and she briefly wondered if she had any dandruff. Her heart rate spiked at the possibility. ‘Don’t worry about that now,’ she thought, ‘You still have four classes worth of notes to get through.’ Despite her best efforts to stay on task her mind momentarily betrayed her bringing forward memories of the first time she saw him.

It was orientation, in that useless beer and burgers tent. She was standing alone at one of those tall, cocktail bar tables. Socializing had never been her strong suit. She didn’t look around anxiously. She felt no discomfort. She just waited, not so patiently, for a relevant activity to begin and went over the Torts reading she’d already done in her head. Just when she’d almost convinced herself to speak to some of her soon to be competitors, she saw a man approaching her purposefully from a table over.

He was a reasonable height – maybe 5’ 8” – and lean. She approved of his dark jeans and running jacket outfit: appropriately casual for the event, yet simple and put together. She struggled with that balance, and just ended up wearing a button up shirt, slacks, and flats.

He loved that she ignored the instructions to dress casually. Such a rebel. He couldn’t stop staring at her from his table. Her slicked back, low ponytail and slightly over-sized pearl earrings.  But he forgot to plan something to say when he got to her. As he got closer he felt panic rise in his gut,

“Hi. I’m Matthew. I like to run marathons and keep a strict vegetarian diet.”

At that moment she knew. She knew that she was going to have sexual intercourse with this man.

“Well that’s sensible. I’m Meredith.”

Suddenly Meredith’s eyes refocused on the study room they were sitting in. She looked at the clock. Four minutes?! Her eyes widened in shock, and then narrowed in anger, and so she put her misbehaving insides on lockdown, and buried her nose back in her casebook.

As Matthew’s mind wandered back to the present, and the images of orientation faded away, he began pondering the progress of their relationship over this first year. At first he thought they were taking the requisite steps forward at the appropriate times. They formed a study group with three other students in the second week of classes. They usually showed up at the same time, sometimes even in the same car, to law school events Meredith deemed necessary for their networking potential and to keep up “cordial” relations with their peers. Sometimes they had sex. Like that time she found out she got the highest grade in Contracts, but not that time he got the highest grade in Torts. Most recently, they took their biggest step yet: they both forfeited their private, single-person carrels from last exam period to now study together in a small study room with less space, and more chance for distraction.

But things had stalled. If he wanted to propose in 2.5 years, after they both passed the bar, then things needed to move along. So he dug deep, and held on to his favorite memory of her for courage: the first time he saw her day planner. Full sized- 8×11. Slots for hourly planning. Color coded.

He shuddered with pleasure and asked the question he’d recited in the mirror uncountable times the night before,

“The ‘midnight’ breakfast is at the library tonight. Do you want to go together?”

“I know it’s tonight. I wrote it into my planner at your insistence. We said we’d go down at 10:30.”

“No . . . I know . . . I meant . . . Together.”

“Like, together?

“Yes.”

“Um. Okay.”

They locked eyes over their piles of hornbooks and notes and tabbed outlines. He smiled. She blinked suggestively. They returned simultaneously to their studying.

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