I walked out of the building at ten that evening. Standing on the sidewalk for a moment, I rotated my neck, trying to ease the stiffness. At least I’d made the deadline and sent the necessary documents to Camelia, which reminded me that the decision for the next junior partner would be announced on Monday in a mandatory staff meeting. Two spots were open.
There were three others in the running—Matt, Fiona, and Rashid—but none of them stayed as late as I did Monday through Friday, nor did they come into the office on weekends. I worked the hardest of anyone there, as far as I saw, and the partnership was likely mine, just by sheer effort alone, whether I really wanted it or not. Did I?
I made it to the train station a little while later and chose one of the many empty spots near a window.
