The lawyer arrived 35 minutes late for court wearing modern horn-rimmed glasses, her long hair twisted in a pen.  I recognized a sister leopard immediately; I’ve come home often with my own unruly tresses secured with a purloined pencil.  I smiled at her; the judge noted her entrance for the record, and the hearing continued.

Afterwards, I saw her smoking outside the courthouse, striding down the sidewalk on strong,  purposeful legs clothed in fitted pants, above slender heels.  She shrugged her jacket off her shoulders, letting it slip sideways as she acknowledged my greeting.  We chatted as we climbed the hill to our cars.  She asked me why the other side opposed my motion.  I told her that it made no legal sense, but the law firm in question really seemed to resent  my entry into the case.

“That’s bull,” she said.  “We’re all in this together.  They shouldn’t take it personally.”  She pulled another long draw and I noticed that she appeared to be pregnant or at least, carrying a bit of rounded flesh under her blouse.  I wondered which it was.  “We all do the same thing,” she continued.  “We should support each other, not stab each other.”

We stopped by my car and talked for a few more moments, not really about anything.   I told her that I liked her glasses.  She smiled and smoked, and looked southward, toward something I couldn’t see.  I studied the smoothness of her profile and the angle of her sculpted cheeks.  I watched her smoke and roll her neck, as though girding herself for the next event.  But it was five o’clock and the courts had closed.

“This is me,” I noted, gesturing at my car.  I clicked the lock and swung the door open, tossing  my files onto the seat.  “Nice to meet you,” I told her.  She sucked the last smoke from her cigarette and tossed the butt to the pavement.  She let a smile escape and drift up to her eyes.  “You, too, ” she said, before turning away.  She threw her own bag a little higher on her arm and I saw a ripple of tension shoot through her shoulders.  I stood watching her as she continued up the hill, towards her car.  Her story drifted behind her like a filmy veil.  I couldn’t see its pattern but I could make out its form.

“See you on August 08th!” I called after her.  Her right hand rose behind her; she didn’t break stride.  I stood for a moment more, watching her tall, slender frame move away, waiting for something more.  After a few minutes, I got into my car, wondering, meditating, thinking about professional courtesy and the courage of a wounded proud leopard standing at the bar.