Vishal Sookur The Return The floor I was on seemed frightfully empty and it made me suddenly wonder why I was still here; no one else was around working their socks off late at night.  It may have been some consolation if I enjoyed my profession but the reality of it was that I didn’t and anyone who became a solicitor out of choice needs to seek help, probably medical, after all, you don’t hear about children having dreams about the English judicial system and playing with limited edition solicitor dolls that have karate document signing action or special solicitor outfits which you can wear and enact your dream of being a tiny cog in the fantastically adventurous world of law; or do you?   It was 9:30p.m when I finally exited the Lawfords company building. I trundled through the car park in search of my
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chariot of fire, my slick wheels, a Ferrari F50, no, maybe a Jaguar or a DB7.  Within the inelegance of my parking space lay the trim and supple body of a sharp TVR Tuscan and sitting on the lethargic, leather-covered seats was a tall, slender brunette with beautifully crafted curves that would… Snapping suddenly back into reality I found myself driving home in a beat up Austin Metro on course to reach the realms of my depressive life.  Driving home always seems to provoke the same thoughts every night.  It’s quite strange when I think about it.  Why am I ...

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