3WW: Beat / Pressure / Substance

"Now this is the life."  Lounging on the beach in the Caribbean with a cocktail in hand and the pressures of the office left behind, Lousia Munroe has managed to take a vacation from her dull legal career.  A long deserved vacation from a career that has been lacking substance and challenge.  

Corporate law…..what was I thinking getting into corporate law, or any type of law for that matter.  It has taken me six years to realize I can take a vacation without the "world" coming to an end, not to mention a big resounding "no, you'll have to try next year for partnership".   Those words have echoed in my head constantly the past month; since my review with supervising partner Matthew Reinhold.

I have put my whole being into my career and I am no further ahead now than I was when I first started.  How "green" I was when I first walked into Higgins & Higgins LLP, thinking the world is my oyster, I'll be partner in less than 7 years.  Boy was I wrong.  What I would give to beat some sense into the writers of movies and television shows depicting lawyers as living glamorous, fast paced lives.  They couldn't be more wrong.

3WW: Cling / Murmur / Taken

And so I write.  Not sure about what exactly, as the words for this week's Three Word Wednesday are not giving me any inspiration per se.  So I cling to the hope that I may come up with something interesting, however I cannot see how this could possibly evolve when I am inspirationless.  Hmmm I believe I may have just created a new word "inspirationless", nice little ring to it.

I am at work, yes I know I really should be doing just that, work, and I hear the murmurs of colleagues on their phones and the quiet conversations in the halls.  Despite these murmurings it is in fact quiet work wise, which makes for a dull day of nothingness.  If only I could be taken away to a magical land, alas only in daydreams.

3WW: Control / Flesh / Razor

The Root Canal

Mike sitting in a reclined position,  eyes shut so tight for if he opens them the light will just blind him and he can't stand to look at the man in the mask any longer.  His hands are white knuckled as he grips the arms on the chair.  He hears drilling, suction and feels bits of debris hitting his face every few seconds. 

 

He jumps ever so slightly in the chair.  "Sonofabitch! That fucking hurt! Was that a razor?", but all the man in the mask hears is mumbling and asks "Did that hurt?".  Mike nods, a tear trickling down his face, trying to control himself.  The man in the mask stops and grabs a syringe, asks Mike to once again open wide.  The syringe feels cold as it is inserted into the flesh of his gums.