Lea's quitting

I was grocery shopping, when Lea texted me: Pick me up at work, I’ll buy dinner.
Lea is a fried, nothing more. She works in an adult store situated in the heart of the Copenhagen red light district. And just so we’re clear: she sells toys and stuff, OK? She’s not an escort or anything like that. Not anymore.
I left my trolley next to a mountain of stacked up oranges and went to get her.
I’m quitting law school, she said as dinner arrived.
Why? I said.
I’m sick of it, she said flatly.
Question: why don’t I quit?