It’s Monday, August 31, 2026, my first “official” day of law school, and someone has keyed my car. White stripes loop across the shiny black doors of my Honda CR-V like a bad tattoo. I run my finger along the grooves and race through the journalist’s questions: Who? What? Why? I have no enemies!

Then I check my watch. I’m sweating, and I’m late for Contracts.