Two men emerged from the car but left their doors hanging open.
Through the stone path they moved, under a rainy sky.
One of them pointed his finger toward the fence. “There he is.”
A young man was trying to find a way out. His only clothes were a loose camisole and a matching drawstring pants. He looked terrified.
"Hi” he said nervously.
“James Briar, the magistrate sent us… you never showed up at your hearing.”
“I didn’t want anybody to think I am craz. . .
