There were two occupied tables in the diner, a favorite hometown haunt; we were sitting at one, catching up after a semester apart. She says with her bachelors in anthropology she will end up working at Anthropologie, selling expensive dresses to girls who can’t afford them. As a junior in high school you can’t wait to finish, graduate and go off to a university. As a junior in college you start to panic, the only thing waiting on the other side of the tassel is life: unpredictable and too real to be fun. I tell her she can always get her masters.
At the other table, a graduating student sits with her boyfriend and celebrates over a piece of cheesecake. The waitress asks from where she is graduating. The girl replies, forlornly, law school because a bachelors isn’t enough these days.
We look at our coffee, rotten cream curdling on the surface.
“I’m not going to law school”, my friend says and raises a hand to ask for the check.
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