Gemotions

The courtroom was a cavernous space, the high ceiling and the hard wooden benches creating an oppressive atmosphere. She sat in the back row, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, knuckles white. The air felt thick, heavy with unspoken judgment.

The lawyer’s words seemed to drone on, each sentence a pronouncement of doom. She could feel her chest constricting, making it difficult to breathe. She desperately tried to remain composed, but her lower lip trembled uncontrollably.

Her gaze darted around the room, taking in the impassive faces of the jury, the stern look of the judge, the quiet whispers from the gallery. She felt exposed, on display, as if she were a specimen under a microscope. Her stomach churned.