The Green Line by E. C. Diskin

cafeteria, kept to themselves. There didn’t seem time for friends anymore. She noticed some younger associates. They were still green and giddy about their jobs. Too cheery. Then there were the Neils and a few quiet lateral hires that kept to themselves. And Sarah. Thank God for Sarah.
    Sarah, now at the bar, waved Abby over. When Abby arrived, Sarah handed her a cosmo and cut her off before the protest. “Just drink it, b-e-otch !” She was busting. “Okay. I’ve been mature about this long enough. There’s no one here we need to talk to. Tell me what the hell happened on Monday night.”
    Abby smiled and acquiesced. “Well, you remember how it was raining on Monday?”
    “Yeah?”
    “And you know how you can never find a cab when it rains?”
    “Yeah?”
    “Well, when I gave up on pulling the all-nighter, it was like eleven o’clock. I was so wiped. I’d spent the whole weekend on that damn brief for Peter and I just knew I had to get a few hours of sleep.”
    “Sounds reasonable.”
    “When I didn’t see a cab, I decided to take the L.”
    “Okay.”
    Abby continued on with all the highlights. Sarah’s jaw dropped and she gasped at the details. Abby realized how crazy and unbelievable it all sounded. She needed to keep it that way. To think of them as characters in a play. That was the only way to keep that woman’s face and those men out of her dreams. She and Sarah toasted to her safety and tried to joke about her saga.
    “Hey, who’s that tall drink of water?” Sarah asked. She was pointing to a man talking to some of the younger associates. Thirty-something, tall, maybe six foot two, with wavy dark hair and some funky glasses, or so it seemed from his profile.
    “I don’t know.”
    “Me likey,” Sarah purred. “Let’s go introduce.”
    “Aren’t you the flirtatious one, Miss ‘I’m getting married in a week.’”
    “Well, I’m not dead, and besides, I’m only suggesting that we say ‘Hi,’ oh Uptight One.”
    “Yeah, yeah,” Abby replied with a smile. She followed Sarah toward the stranger.
    Sarah paid no attention to the conversation in full swing in front of her—they were first-years, after all. She tapped the stranger’s shoulder and he turned around.
    “Hello there,” Sarah offered. He was even better from the front. His hair was a little long on top, swooped across his forehead, and his funky rectangular-shaped neon-green frames were a great complement to the green eyes. So Sarah’s type. “I’m Sarah Voight, senior associate, Chicago office. This is Abigail Donovan,” she said with a nod toward Abby. “And who might you be?”
    The man studied Abby’s face. “Abigail Donovan, Abby?”
    “Yes?”
    “It’s me. Nate. Jesus, I don’t think I’ve seen you since…,” and then his face darkened as he remembered, “Denny’s funeral.”
    The new-found style hadn’t looked familiar, but those green eyes and the dimple on his right cheek—how had she not recognized him?
    “Nate!” She grabbed him and hugged hard. He hugged back like he had found a long-lost family member.
    “Well, what’s this reunion about?” Sarah asked.
    “I’m sorry,” Nate said, pulling out of the embrace and returning to the professional stance. “The name is Nathan Walters. I practically grew up at Abby’s house. Abby’s big brother was my best friend.”
    “Was?”
    Abby’s gaze stared straight through Nate. She was lost in thought as she muttered, “He died in high school.”
    Nate chimed in. “Just before graduation.” He then turned back to Abby and offered a subject change. “Now, are you an attorney? I would never have guessed!”
    Abby smiled. She knew his comment was not meant as an insult. “Yeah, I know, but we all have to grow up.”
    Sarah joined in. “Are you kidding? She’s the golden girl—definitely one of our best and brightest.”
    Abby nudged her friend. “Shut up, Sarah.”
    Nate was all smiles. “Really? That’s great, Abby. But what about your