Gemotions

The courtroom was hushed, the air thick with tension. The lawyer, Mr. Henderson, sat at the table, reviewing the case files. It felt like he was sifting through sand. He felt nothing more than a mild awareness of the circumstances.

A woman, her face pale, approached him, a stack of documents in her arms. She slammed them down on the table, her eyes filled with a desperate energy. "This case… this whole thing… it's you," she breathed.

Henderson looked up at her, offering a calm and patient stare. He felt no need to interrupt her or object.

"You're using the same arguments, the same evidence, the same line of questioning. We're on the same side, and yet…" She trailed off, her voice laced with confusion.

He picked up a document. "Are we?" he asked, his voice even and measured. The notion of a struggle, a battle of wills, seemed distant, irrelevant.