Cecilia hunched over her computer. No one told her being a lawyer would involve so much writing. Almost every day. Actually, every day. Working in family law was somehow more taxing. Every day, families splitting, yelling, crying. And a combination of writing briefs and their subject matter made her hunch more, cowering beneath the gravity of each case.

A man entered, sitting down. Cecilia started the every-six-minute timer. Wringing his hat, the man, her client, finally arrived. He hadn’t slept in days. Cecilia could see the deepening lines in his face.

His kids, taken by his ex. She ostracized him. She needed them more than he needed them, she had said. Cecilia discussed the trial tomorrow. Thinking about it again, he began to cry. Cecelia stopped the timer.

The river dried. The timer started again.

Cecilia had done the research. There was precedent. He could see his kids again. It’d be messy, but a successful job would reunite the kids and her client, that weary father.

His smile radiated. Three years of fighting, soon over.

He left, and Cecilia hunched over again. He was counting on her.

As grueling as it was, she kept writing.