Gemotions

The lawyer’s words echoed in his ears, each syllable a painful jab. “You have a right to a defense.” He’d mumbled something in response, avoiding eye contact, staring at the chipped paint on the table. He felt a tingling in his fingertips, a persistent urge to fidget.

His carefully constructed facade of composure crumbled. He'd tried to appear confident, assured, but the tightness in his chest betrayed him. He could almost feel the judging eyes of everyone involved in the court case. He focused on the patterns in the cheap linoleum, wanting to just disappear. He cleared his throat, the sound unusually loud in the quiet room.