Grandpa’s Old Squirrel Gun

As the judge enters the courtroom, I can feel my pulse quicken and my throat tighten. My lungs feel like they are underwater and starving for air. I look at the judge with his stern face and his long , flowing robes but, he doesn’t seem to notice me or doesn’t want to.

“All rise.”

I concentrate on making my leg muscles react and lift me upward from the hard, wooden chair. As I stand I notice…