Michael was one of the best lawyers in town, he helped people buy and sell homes all day long. He made a lot of money and never had to worry about anything else.
One day as he's walking out his office door for lunch, someone says "Hey Mr. Anderson." Michael turns around to see an old man with a cane standing behind him. The old man is holding up a sheet of paper that has "Titles" written on it in crayon. "Can you help me?" the oldman asks politely.
"I'm sorry I don't have time for this tonight," Michael answered quickly before making his way to the cafe next door where his co-workers were waiting for their daily meeting over drinks. He was in a hurry, so he didn't bother turning around to see if the old man was still there when he left.
Michael walked into the cafe and saw all of his co-workers sitting at a table laughing and joking about something. As soon as they realized that Michael had arrived they got quiet and looked up expectantly, like dogs awaiting treats from their master's hand. "Alright everyone, let's get going."
Michael's mind kept thinking about his co-workers' little meeting. He scanned their faces quickly to see if they had anything up their sleeves, but didn't see anything too suspicious. The whole time they were working together, it was like these guys were trying to play some sort of game with him and he was never sure what the rules were. It made it hard for him to stay focused during the meeting, since all this backstabbing and politicking left him wondering who would be next to turn against him just because he wasn't as good at this stuff as them.
Michael told myself that it wasn't worth caring about those idiots anyways because they weren't even really a part of his life outside.
After he left the cafe, the oldman was still there tapping his foot in anticipation. "No time for this?" the oldman asked with a huff. "Don't you know that the title of your book can be the difference between life and death?"