“I booked the specialist,” Richard said.

“I showed you the confirmation.

This whole circus is a waste of the court’s time.”

The heavy oak courtroom doors clicked open.

A bailiff in a brown uniform stepped out and called our names into the hallway.

We sat down at the petitioner’s table.

The room was nearly empty and smelled of floor wax and old wood.

Richard sat alone at the respondent’s table, laying out his papers as if he were preparing a bid on a new housing development.