I’m on time; he’s not. I take a seat just outside the courtroom on a long empty wooden bench that lines the corridor. I nervously run my hands through my hair, which is finally long enough to lie semi-flat. Honey says it looks like a pixie cut, and that my short dark hair makes my green eyes pop. I’m still not sure about it. She also suggested my wardrobe, a white and green dress that came with a bolero jacket. She wanted me to wear heels with it, but I know better. I need lots more practice before donning heels in public. I have on no makeup, first because I wasn’t sure how much to use, and second, because my eye is still pretty darned puffy and crusty. It’s embarrassing, but Big Daddy said that a crusty eye wasn’t reason enough to reschedule the trial. Honey wanted to be with me, but I let her sleep because her late night visitor didn’t leave until the wee hours of the morning. He tried to sneak by the sofa I was resting on, but his patent leather shoes made this funny squeak/fart sound that prevented a quiet exit.
