It was lunchtime. The office was silent, save for the sound of the faxes coming in down the hall and the crinkling of my brown paper bag as I finished my turkey sandwich. Everyone else in the office was out to lunch and I couldn’t be happier. I never went with them; partially because I enjoyed the silence, but mostly because I was never invited. Not that I cared, though. I wasn’t here to make friends or have a good time. I was here because it was the best damn job I could find right out of law school. It paid well, and I figured I would stay here for awhile, saving my money and getting valuable experience before I could open my own firm. I was the youngest lawyer working there (and a girl, to boot), so I had always felt out of place, but the guys I was working for were among the best there was, so I was going to stick it out for as long as necessary. Besides, I was happy… right?

About a half hour later, my silent haven was destroyed as the first group of secretaries made their way back, reeking of cigarette smoke and bragging incessantly about their sons or daughters. We exchanged polite smiles when they walked past, but I was willing to bet that the second I was out of earshot, they would be talking about me.

“Does the girl shop at a retirement home? No wonder she doesn’t have a husband; she needs color in her wardrobe!” or “Did you hear? Apparently Spencer’s been screwing Farber behind his wife’s back. That’s how she got the job.”

No, I didn’t shop at a retirement home. I had nobody to impress outside of work, and conservative was always better in a high-paying law firm. And again, no, I wasn’t “screwing Farber.” I got the job because I was the valedictorian of my graduating class at Yale Law, not because I was having sex with a partner. And for the record, if I ever break my streak of celibacy I’ve maintained since my senior year of college, it will not be with a middle-aged, married man. That’s for sure.

Okay, so maybe I wasn’t ‘happy’ in the traditional sense of the word. I rarely left my apartment for anything besides work and takeout, although for the latter, I was lucky that most places in New York City delivered. Oh, I also left to walk Benny, my beagle mutt who I’d found outside my apartment the day after finals last year. When I found him, he had been hit by a car or a bicycle or something, because his leg was bloody and he wasn’t putting pressure onto it. He was also incredibly fearful; despite the fact that he was basically crippled, it took me almost two hours to convince him to come into my car so I could take him to a veterinarian. I liked the challenge though, and nothing made me feel as whole as nurturing another, even if it was an animal. Three months had gone by before I could pet him without him flinching before contact, but now, almost a year later, he was well-adjusted, friendly, smart, and non-destructive: the perfect qualities for a house pet. Oh, and he had a bladder of steel. Let’s not forget that.