The Jury

Martha sat down, her back straight, on the centennial chair facing the jury. Her fists were hidden behind her back, holding the note tightly. The three aged men were silent as she settled down, for what seemed to be enough time for a star to be formed. Breaking the taught silence, the middle man offered a perfunctory sentence. They had found they suspected the research was not original. The data was suspicious. They could not afford the doctorate. M. Observed her muscles tense, felt her anxiety turning to rage. Her hand hurt. She was standing. The judge had a bloody nose.