Vanity. Ares

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
A
openly declaring his stress: “Do you feel the
defendant knew of Myra’s status as a
Transgender?” “I did not know, maybe. He seemed
like a bad apple to me. I remember hearing him
slating a Lady Gaga video, and I assumed he was
bigoted and dubious, as from our first
conversation he was a jerk to me.” “Is it a crime in
your eye to be as you say a "jerk"?” asked Connor,
which I accepted indicated slight skill, but the
monotone voice still persisted and the old suit still
hung on his back, draped. “It is to stab someone to
death,” replied Carly. Connor did not have a
comeback and I slid a little more down in my seat.
After this comment Carly was told by the judge
that she could step down and walk back to her seat
and I watched her do so.
She sat next to Amber to whom I surmised
had a face that made me question the legitimacy of
her lesbianism; her face seeming too pretty,
opulent in a way. The court was the adjourned for
an hour lunch.
I was escorted out of the court room and I
found it unfortunate that there was a small Prison
at the Old Bailey, where I was taken to and served
a luncheon of what I considered just lumps of
potatoes masquerading as mash, two sausages,
gravy, and an orange juice. I sat in the cell
attempting to eat the lunch when one of the
sausages fell onto the ground. I sighed a deep
breath, one that felt was for all my hopes, dreams
and good feeling on that day. The fallen sausage
would have been a trivial moment in the bosom of
freedom, I reckoned, being that if it had occurred
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