Page 32 of Range
Bzzzzzt.
The fourth door opened, finally giving me access to the other side of the center.
Bzzzzzt.
A fifth door welcomed me into the visitation area. It wasn’t the same as public visitation. In fact, it was far from it. Literally and figuratively. There were four rooms, two reserved for attorney and client-privileged visits. The others were forhearings and in-house court proceedings when prisoners caught additional cases while incarcerated.
I pushed open the door with the number two plastered on the front. The coolness gripped my skin. I secretly praised myself for wearing the blazer I’d tossed over my shoulders on the way out of the door. Unfortunately, the knee-high skirt and tights underneath were the culprits of my discomfort.
Shit.
I parted my briefcase and removed the pack of wipes from the pocket.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
I split the wipes, three in one hand and three in the other. The first set slid across the table, disinfecting the surface. The second set cleared the chairs.
Mine and Josiah’s.
I discarded the wipes in the small trash can that was protected by metal and attached to the wall. The constant movement warmed my body generously. As I lowered my body into the plastic chair, I pushed my hair out of my face and straightened the invisible wrinkles in my clothes.
I removed the unopened file from my briefcase, quietly chastising myself for not taking the time to look over it. However, in some cases, it wasn’t necessary. In almostallthe cases Chemistry handed over, it wasn’t required.
Because it didn’t matter who the defendant was or what their charges were, they were innocent in my eyes. So, the paper didn’t matter. The accusations didn’t matter. Not even theirstatements mattered. Whatever needed to be done to dismiss or acquit would be done. Whatever needed to be said would be said.
Whatever needed to be fabricated would be fabricated. Whatever needed to be destroyed would be destroyed. Losing wasn’t an option. It was too much like second place. And second place was unacceptable.
I settled in my seat, folder between my fingers. As I peeled the cover back, the familiar buzz garnered my attention.
Bzzzzt.
An extensive, burly frame was revealed as the steel door pulled toward the right. Dark skin covered every inch. Thick hair curled under, littering stocky arms and veiny hands.
I swallowed the lump that formed in my throat. Oxygen was suppressed. I forgot that breathing was required for the extension of life as I scanned my way up the perfectly proportioned body.
A peculiar, alarmingly arousing feeling consumed me. My heart ached as if it had been broken and healed, simultaneously. The anchoring of my soul was apparent in the invisible rope that had been wrapped around my insides and pulled toward the godly creature whose face I had yet to see.
Josiah. I internalized.
Yoshiyahu.
God has healed.
Whom Jehovah heals.
Young leader.
Leader of a nation.
