“Fuck it. I’ll just have to settle for being poor.” Though I do stop and wonder if investing in a roommate might keep me from talking to my plants.

My phone chirps with an email notification, and I automatically swipe to open it, despite the fact that said chirp is likely spam and not an urgent client email. Since I no longer have clients. Or a work email.

“No!” I declare to my fiddle-leaf fig, tossing my phone to the opposite side of the couch. “I am no longer tied to my phone.” And since the opposite side of the couch means only a foot away from me, I reach over and pick up the phone again, turning off all my email notifications. I’ve been jumping at the first trill of that stupid email chirp for the past six years, like a millennial Pavlov’s dog. It’s interrupted dates and time with my friends and countless hours of sleep. No more.

It’s Thursday night. I’m going to give myself a nice long three-day weekend to grieve and gripe and moan. And then on Monday, I’ll hit the pavement. I’ll be hired somewhere new and fabulous in no time.

“Now,” I say to my tiny room full of plants, “let’s get drunk!”

Two

Blueprint is packed when I step out of my Lyft two hours later. Should I have taken the subway? Yes. Did I pay an exorbitant rate just to save myself half an hour? Also yes. Was it worth not having to hike ten blocks in killer-in-more-than-one-way heels? Abso-fucking-lutely.

Harley waits for me out front, looking like she came straight from the office. She’s in a too-long black pencil skirt and matching blazer, accompanied by a white button-down and black ballet flats. She opens her arms and pulls me into a hug the moment I approach, and despite my towering over her in my heels, it’s the best hug I’ve had in a long time.

“I need some good news; tell me you kicked some lawyerly ass today.” I wriggle out of her embrace before it becomes embarrassing, blinking rapidly to dispel any tears that might’ve sprung into my eyes at this display of pure kindness.

“Today consisted solely of paperwork; sorry, friend.” She gives me a sad smile, and I find myself blinking again.