The courtroom is empty.
The judge left hours ago. The jury is gone. The crowd drifted off home. The defendant disappeared.
But a lawyer remains. Sitting at his table. Organizing papers. Preparing arguments. Rehearsing defenses. Ready to prove the case. Still and always.
Every now and then he looks up and scans the room. Just to make sure he's ready. Just in case someone returns. Just in case another accusation arrives. Just in case.
I know that lawyer. I was him for a long time. I will be him again in the future. Always preparing. Always explaining. Always defending myself.
What I eventually discovered was strange, because when the attacks stopped, when the accusations stopped, when the courtroom emptied…. The defense continued.
Not because anyone was demanding it.
Because it had become identity.
The lawyer wasn't protecting me anymore. He was protecting the job.
What if I don’t need to be defended?
What if I don’t need to prosecute others?
What If I’m just okay with what arises?
I don’t need you anymore…
But he doesn’t leave. Does he?
No judge.
No prosecutor.
No audience.
Just an empty room.
I have a message for that lonely lawyer justifying his existence.
The trial is over.
You can go now.