Vanity. Ares

outside the four walls of a prison cell it could have
been replaced, but in that cell the fallen sausage
seemed to ooz the blood of my sanity and propel
the nausea, which felt stinging. This prompted my
mind to feel like a switch had been turned off and
one that could not easily be switched back on, I
fathomed quietly in the dark cell; Because of the
fallen sausage I could not eat the rest of the meal,
so I just sat on the edge of the bed staring at the
wall in thought. After the lunch break had finished
I was escorted back to the court and the trial
continued. I sat back down next to Connor in
search of light and hope. The next witness called
by the judge was Beckett, whom strutted to the
witness box with his arms languidly dangling either
side of his body, as he peered at me with a facial
expression I remember feeling friendly; a half
smile. He stood in the witness box and the first
question put to him by Cesare was: “What do you
make of the defendant’s character?” “I think he’s
an alright kinda guy," said Beckett. "A good guy.”
Then Cesare asked why and Beckett said: “He aint
never did anything wrong in my eyes ya know? This
whole Myra situation is out of order.” The desire
for positive words that could shed light on my truth
were still in search of, as I wished that Beckett had
worn something that looked more tidy. He dressed
in a T-shirt which I saw had a hole in its blue collar
and black jeans I noted were as dusty as Connor’s
suit; this in conclusion made him look like a bum.
Cons and tricks told me all about the importance of
appearance: a blue suit and a note pad was for me a
powerful tool. Beckett's clothing, alone would
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