I sat in my chair and looked at the man I’d been married to for eighteen years.

The whole foundation of our home had been torn apart in under forty minutes.

It was public record now, typed into a transcript by a woman sitting three feet away.

Claire put her legal pad and the forms into her leather briefcase.

“We need to get over to the hospital,” Claire said.

We walked out of the courtroom and across the wide lobby.

Richard followed some distance behind us, his hands jammed deep in his suit pockets.