Vanity. Ares

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AA
about that dildo, rape and her girlfriend Amber
sauntered into my mind as I looked back at her.
Carly then stood in the witness box with
her ironed white shirt looking as lesbian as her
fresh box like hair cut and pierced nose; all of
which reminded me Justin Bieber that day. No
song's would be sung and the chords within her
words would be cutting. “How did you know of
the defendant?” Cesare asked. “We lived in the
same house,” said Carly. "For a while." “How did
you feel about him?” said Cesare, before my
lawyer objected with the words: “I object!” just
like that. The objection as staunch as my desire
for the dust that emanated from his suit to
vanish. “For what? Overruled,” shrugged the
judge with a frustrated head shake, that looked as
if she thought: 'This is the second time I’ve had
to overrule you, are you some sort of amateur?'
Carly said, “Well, to be totally honest, we had our
differences, let’s just say that. I’m not gonna be
in court telling lies.” Listening to this I felt that
her American accent was nasally and jarring,
prompting me to think that I really had never had
an affinity for such an accent; it seemed idealistic,
maybe all the influence of movies, I reckoned.
The prosecutor asked Carly to describe some of
these points of differences and she said that she
found me “dubious” before pausing and then
adding: “He seemed like he was all lost, and just
like bad news.” “I object to that your honour, this
is not a Starbucks this is a court,” said Connor
half standing to talk. The judge just looked at my
lawyer in the silence and that was all she did for a
109