Emmett is experienced. He never breaks a sweat on that courtroom floor, grilling the witness in a perfect cross-examination. He’s done it so many times now that it has become second nature to him.

But you, however, are fairly new to Harvard Law, and this happens to be your first trial. The doors haven’t even opened up yet and you are already so early to the building. You’re shaking. If you don’t win this case, you don’t win Callahan’s internship, and then you don’t win the career of your dreams.

Emmett, always punctual yet still a few steps behind you, arrives. He looks dashing as usual in his brown corduroy jacket with his messenger back slung over his shoulder. He waves when he sees you.

“You’re freaking out,” he observes. “Don’t freak out.”