Tension, fear, more fear, he wasn’t settled it’s been two hours, should he call the cops? No cause they will make things much worse, but what should I do, he pondered, throwing blind fists on to the echoed walls, groaning aimlessly, kneeling and dusting his recently bought pants, he did what he could to think of something. Ten minutes after the surgery he was driving tensed because he hoped for the worst from that surgery, they cut a vein by mistake, the anesthesia machine goes off, he daunted all possible results that just maybe Mila will not make it out alive. The haunting images of Mila on his death bed his gut ripped open, tissues exposed, a faint nauseating smell from his decomposing body, flies circling, patches of skin fading, he felt nausea from his throat, he swallowed the puke back in, drive, drive, he stepped on the gas he zoomed like a maniac he just became. Despite being the optimistic guy, the one who thought the positive even if they were out weighed by the negatives,

Sip, another sip…wait when was my coffee over, it took him some time to realize his coffee cup was dry and for the last five minutes he was sipping air, but it was expected the man was in deep thought and same time shocked and confused, he just came to his senses that he actually went on his knees and apologized, his ego, his pride, was it numbed by the alcohol and caged silently by the liquor that he was shameful enough to do such a thing. He bit his lower lip, hands clenched together, elbows leaning on his knee joints, his head balanced by his fists, should I go there and beat them up, should I take back my apology, should I… all should I thoughts raced in. An apology wasn’t a physical object you can snatch back and beat the one you gave, it was emotional and you can’t take away emotions, so Brian the tyrant, was confused, tensed anxious, his ankles were shaking making a consecutive knock of three intervals per second. Just a stone throw away, he actually had visual of it, that is

Rusty metal handle, large hallow cylindrical encase, filled with today’s special or everyday special Blue cake liquor on the house. One mug, another and another, he gulped one after the other groaning as it gave a burning sensation down his throat, grinding his teeth as he forced air through his clamped creamy jaws, touchdown the landing was heavy as the liquor settled with the rest devoured ingredients inside his filling belly. He hadn’t foreseen this bullshit, his day started off well, the normal routine bouncing bossing around the station, listening to cry’s of widows, whacking some scumbags caught in last night’s bar fight down the alley, it was just going well he gladdened his self. Ring! Amidst his physical therapy with some law breakers in the good cell, an amateur teen had poured liquor on the deejay’s laptop and vandalized his mixer, well he was getting some beat-up but at least he wasn’t paying the fine but his body was getting it hard. Saved by the ring, bloody everywhere,

Natured and hardened by the streets, woke up as a fake brother to a millionaire drug lord, ever since fond of wearing the more casual clothing like simple sweat pants, jeans, less suits and tuxedos, this occasion prompted him and circumstances forced him to wear the more office clothing. Powder blue, nah too loud, how about white, yah white will do. Evaluating the classic and expensive diverse options of cotton fabric shirts he settled for the white long sleeved shirt as he sensed it was more official. For the suit he went with the Britain taste, more of the similar classic grey suit but more heavy on the grey touch, and of course he couldn’t ruin this fashioned lineup by some whacky slacks that turns this respectable and desired attire into a more clown and more joking charade, so the man led by his taste in the classic Kingston fashion chose the fitting classic grey trousers matching with the suit, so eventually when the man stared in the body height mirror, man was fashionable exq

Rosewood furnished but with a more strengthened oak embodiment and more equalizing mahogany to bring textile elasticity, at around 11 inches, a chest high shelf with adequate shelving lockers, an additional microphone it’s black cords out of man’s path as it strings down to the mixer and amplifier down the adjacent court clerk’s station. The judge’s bench spacious for flexible and easy movement with an even more comfortable movable armchair, in built panel video for necessary electronic evidence and a green covered book sized notebook on the judge’s table. Adjacently, at a risen level lower from the judge’s bench, opposite from the witnesses stand, some feet from the reporters bench, around 4 to 7 inch tables, with feet high shelves, additional pigeon holes, was the court clerk’s station. Hosting the optional mixer and amplifier, it also housed several electronic equipment including the obvious desktop computer and control console, a black covered bible was in sight used for it’s day