Vanity. Ares

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apparently a two day affair, said Connor on my
way into the court room. He also whispered; “All
that hokey pokey nonsense was not verified by
any of the witnesses, so it was all hype and that
newspaper may now be taken to court for it,
although I shouldn’t tell you that, but good news.”
After hearing his words I thought that hokey
pokey was not going to be a big turnaround for
me. The realm of sanity perhaps questionable
from the banality of the constant procedures and
accusations.
Guilt seemed only a by product, or to-do;
in that you look hard enough and there it lies.
Though I did not feel guilt but a reckoning,
shadows of nothingness brought on by my lawyers
update. We then entered the courtroom, which
had a pathway leading to the judges stand and a
witness stand beside it to the right. On the right I
saw two benches already full of jurors, I quickly
counted ten. I then saw whom I imagined was the
prosecutor, stood at a desk just in front of the
seating for the public, sifting through some
paperwork. Whereas Connor was having a few
words with a guy holding a notepad and what
looked like a bag for a camera — that I guessed
from my previous court case could not be used. I
assumed the guy holding the notepad was a
journalist, as he spoke with a squint that made his
face look inquisitive, intelligent and very much
like one. “It looks like a two day one Tone,” I
heard Connor say from behind me. “Could be a
longie, but bloody el Huld, this is a biggie aint it?”
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