Whit's Hours Novels & Stories

She returns to the plaintiff table and sits down, the chair creaking once more. Lucas taps a quick line into his laptop, and she glances over to read the text on screen: Opening statement complete, 4 minutes 22 seconds. She gives a faint, silent nod. Whitfield stands, his chair scraping against the floor. He fastens both of his blazer buttons, aligning them perfectly, plastic clicking as his fingers make contact with each dome.