The Judge Walked Past His Own Family To Speak To Me

wine bottles. Not the quartet. Not my father, who had gone pale in a way I hadn’t seen since the day my mother left and he had to tell two kids she wasn’t coming back by dinner.

I stood up because that’s what training does to you. Older man, formal setting, direct address. You rise.

“Judge Bellamy,” I said.

His wife looked me over once, quick and exact.continue reading …