“I am a federal judge and do not have time for you to reflect on every word of every brief. If you didn’t realize it, this is not your only case for our sitting. So, I suggest that you work on your reading skills, something I would have thought a law school graduate would have mastered.”

“Um, OK, but—”

“But nothing. I want that bench memo by the end of the week,” she demanded before scurrying to the elevator.

I’d barely gotten through the two main briefs and had yet to touch any of the amicus briefs, which were written by outside groups with an interest in the case. Not to mention, I hadn’t started the copious legal research a case like this warranted.

“Hey, don’t worry about that. You’re doing fine, I’m sure of it.”

I spun around, shocked to hear Matthew’s voice. He was halfway out the door before I could thank him for his kind words. I grabbed three of the briefs, my purse, and headed home.

As I turned the corner, just a block from my apartment, a tall, emaciated Asian man with pockmarks and a greasy combover sauntered over to me. He wore pinstriped denim overalls with no shirt underneath, giving the illusion that his shoulders were a hanger.

“Want anything?” he demanded. Kind of a general question, I thought.

“Um . . . not really. Thanks.” Nothing. Just stares. What was with all the staring in this town?! Unable to deal with the uncomfortable silence, I plodded forward. “Well, maybe I’d want to move out of Philly and back to New York.”

“You know, Philly is the fifth-largest city in the country! Five. Number five!!” Aside from his screaming louder than the security guards, his actual words were curious considering that in the short time I’d been there, and every Tom, Dick, and John Adams had rattled off this most mediocre statistic to me. This guy was the third person to brag about it. See also: Pam from membership at the Liberty Gym and unnamed taxi driver from undetermined Eastern European country.

“What does fifth-largest mean anyway and why is everyone obsessed by this fact? I mean, what’s the big deal?” No deal for me. He’d lost interest, ditched me on the stoop, and approached a middle-aged man in a silver Mercedes SUV stopped at the red light in front of us. Getting blown off by a homeless man seemed par for the course.

I walked into my apartment, threw my purse on the floor, and nestled into my couch. It was at times like these that I wished I had a TV. The one I had in New York had belonged to my roommate, Jill, and I didn’t have enough money to buy one for myself.