While Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters
Sons of bankers, sons of lawyers
Turn around and say good morning to the night
For unless they see the sky,
But they can't, and that is why
They know not if it's dark outside or light
--Elton John, Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters
He sat in the law library. A young law clerk. Alone.
Lights fought the night pouring in the skyscraper windows, but they did not back turn the tide.
Books stacked four deep were piled at his hands. One case referenced another, which referenced another, which referenced another. The layers sank too deeply for his tired brain to handle.
He stomach squeezed to think about going back to the senior partner again. One berating in front of the smirking client was enough. Contrary to popular belief, you could NOT find a case for any proposition. Let him dig through the horrid cases.
Sometimes shit just doesn't exist. Sometimes you can't get there from here.
Or maybe he shouldn't be in law school after all.
He stood by the window high over the unfamiliar streets. Skipped dinner gnawed at him. The empty hotel room would be waiting, and more impossible tasks after four hours of sleep. He was probably too tired to cry, even if he were so disposed. But another glance at the pile of books pushed him close.
Marveling at the thousands of lights, he switched the room to dark.
So beautiful to be standing on the 65th floor. Almost worth it.
When his head crinkled into the hotel pillow, the sparkles stayed with him for what was left of the night.