I’m so caught up in my work that at one point I look down and see a bag of food on my desk. I glance up at Sophia, and she shakes her head, laughing. “Thank you,” I mouth from across the room.

I inhale the sandwich and the Diet Coke, and it’s hours later when I realize that everyone is gone for the day. I heard people telling me goodbye as they were leaving, but it didn’t register. Glancing down at the clock on my computer I’m shocked to see it’s after ten.

I pull out my phone and see I’ve got a missed text from my friend Delilah.

Del: I’m at Lincoln’s until midnight

I grab my bag and make my way out of the building, waving to the late-shift staff at the front desk in the lobby. They all know me by first name and watch out for me when I let the time slip by.

As I walk, I respond to the other texts I missed during the day. I send one to thank my mom for sending me the name of the new restaurant that popped up near my apartment, and then I reply to my dad to say that yes, I promise to come home this weekend and see everyone. They like to nag, but I love it. We are all really close, but they know I’m addicted to my job.

I check the rest of my texts on the four-block walk to the bar off the alley. Lincoln’s is tucked away and quiet, but they’ve got a good liquor list and food until three in the morning. What more could a working woman need?

I’ve got on a black jacket and black slacks with black heels. This is the extent of my entire wardrobe, and it makes me blend into a place like this. When I walk in, I spot Delilah by the pool table and make my way over. We met during the intern program at Osbourne, but she ended up taking an offer at another firm after our year was up. I couldn’t blame her. They were willing to make her lead of her own team right away, and that’s what we were both after. It was an unspoken competition, and one I’m glad didn’t end our friendship.

Her straight dark hair is to her shoulders, and she’s got on the same kind of dark suit I have. She’s taken off her jacket, and I do the same, revealing my black tank top under it. I see two beers sitting on a table next to her, and I raise an eyebrow.

“Yours should still be cold. I asked the waitress to bring it about ten minutes ago,” she says, racking the balls again.

“Am I that predictable?”

“Nah, I’ve still got a tracker on your phone.”

I shake my head. “One time I go on vacation and you never let me turn it off after.”

“Hey, that’s what friends are for,” she retorts, grabbing the pool stick and breaking.