Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

What Irritates You?

The judge looks down his long nose, over his glasses and across the courtroom to Mary. “Sustained...counsel, I’m not going to tell you again.” Mary movies on. Do you recognize these photographs, Mr. Benson?
Objection.
"Sustained. Counsel, foundation?”
Mary pulls her shoulders back and tries to loosen her lower lip. Some jurors look confused, others disinterested. This is day 8 and flower gardens have been unattended to, babysitters are working overtime, and the early bird special still leaves parking in the courthouse garage an easy $15 a day.

Mary glances over- she’s losing them. Only two are taking notes, another has his chin resting on his palm, like a waiter balancing a heavy tray. She looks at juror number twelve. Mary had trusted that she would pay attention. She said she had a child, surely she could understand the loss, she could be vicariously and pre-emptively vengeful. But no, juror 12 was inspecting her fingernails.
A life lost was being watered down with court rules. A killer was hiding under his defense attorney’s dress. The jurors didn’t mind, it made it easier to bury their own fears in the casket of an 18 year-old boy never to be met.

Let’s break for lunch.

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