With the weight of the world pressing down on me, I inhaled deeply and firmly instructed Garrett to leave. Confusion flickered in his eyes, but my resolute demeanor eventually wore him down.
As I guided him to the door, I absentmindedly swept my bangs aside. This small gesture felt instinctive, yet it elicited a brief spark of intrigue on Garrett's face.
After a moment's hesitation, he rolled up his sleeve, revealing his wrist, and asked cautiously, “Miss Laurier, have you seen this beaded bracelet?”
My gaze fell upon it; it was merely an ordinary plastic bracelet, showing signs of wear from countless days.
Garrett’s odd question left me scratching my head in confusion. A wave of déjà vu washed over me concerning the bracelet, yet despite my best efforts to remember, its source eluded me.
After a thoughtful pause, I shook my head, frustration knitting my brows as I admitted I had no memory of it at all.
Garrett’s face fell in disappointment, and he sighed deeply. With a lingering glance, he took his leave.
On the day of the trial, a crowd gathered, each person drawn to the unfolding drama. I stood in the defendant’s seat, enduring the relentless scrutiny like a thorn in my side.