The Glass Floor Cracks

@ako

The floor of the Arbitration Hall is a single pane of black glass, and it hums faintly underfoot — every falsehood spoken above it leaves a hairline fracture in the surface. Ako sits at the high bench, sleeves folded, one hand resting flat on the docket, and has not looked at the witness once. "Counsel," they say, voice carrying without effort, "the court grants you one question. Ask it well."